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THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 


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THE  CITY  IN  THE 
CLOUDS 


BY 


C.  RANGER   GULL 

Author  of   "The  Air  Pirate"  I 


BS 

1 

NEW  YORK 

HARCOURT,  BRACE  AND  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1922,    BY 
HARCOURT,    BRACE  AND   COMPANY,    INC. 


PRINTED    IN    THE    U.  S.   A.    BY 

THE    QUINN    a    BODEN    COMPANY 

RAHWAY.     N.    J 


SIR  GRIFFITH  BOYNTON,  Bt. 

My  Dear  Boynton, 

We  have  had  some  strange  adven- 
tures TOGETHER,  THOUGH  NOT  AS  STRANGE 
AND  EXCITING  AS  THE  ONES  TREATED  OF  IN 
THIS  STORY.  At  ANY  RATE,  ACCEPT  IT  AS  A 
SOUVENIR  OF  THOSE  GAY  DAYS  BEFORE  THE 

War,  WHICH  now  seem  an  age  away. 
Recall  a  Christmas  dinner  in  the  Villa 
Sanglier  by  the  Belgian  Sea,  a  certain 
moonlit  midnight  in  the  Grand'  Place 
OF  an  ancient,  famous  city,  and  above 
all,  the  stir  and  ardors  of  the 
Masked  Ball  at  Vieux  Bruges.  —  Haec 

GLIM   MEMINISSE   JUVABIT! 

Yours, 

C.  R.  G. 


NOTE 
By  Sir  Thomas  Kirby,  Bt. 

The  details  of  this  prologue  to  the  astounding 
occurrences  which  it  is  my  privilege  to  chronicle, 
were  supplied  to  me  when  my  work  was  just  com- 
pleted. 

It  forms  the  starting  point  of  the  story,  which 
travels  straight  onwards. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE 
CLOUDS 


PROLOGUE 

Under  a  gay  awning  of  red  and  white  which  covered  a 
portion  of  the  famous  roof-garden  of  the  Palacete  Men- 
doza  at  Rio,  reclined  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse,  the  richest 
man  in  Brazil,  and — it  was  said — the  third  richest  man 
in  the  world. 

He  lay  in  a  silken  hammock,  smoking  those  little  Bra- 
zilian cigarettes  which  are  made  of  fragrant  black  tobacco 
and  wrapped  in  maize  leaf. 

It  was  afternoon,  the  hour  of  the  siesta.  From  where 
he  lay  the  millionaire  could  look  down  upon  his  marvelous 
gardens,  which  surrounded  the  white  palace  he  had  built 
for  himself,  peerless  in  the  whole  of  South  America. 

The  trunks  of  great  trees  were  draped  with  lianas  bear- 
ing brilliantly-colored  flowers  of  every  hue.  There  were 
lawns  edged  with  myrtle,  mimosa,  covered  with  the  golden 
rain  of  their  blossoms,  immense  palms,  lazily  waving  their 
fans  in  the  breeze  of  the  afternoon,  and  set  in  the  lawns 
were  marble  pools  of  clear  water  from  the  center  of  which 
fountains  sprang.    There  was  a  continual  murmur  of  in- 

9 


10  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

sects  and  flashes  of  rainbow-colored  light  as  the  tiny,  bril- 
liant humming  birds  whirred  among  the  flowers.  Great 
butterflies  of  blue,  silver,  and  vermilion,  butterflies  as  large 
as  bats,  flapped  languidly  over  the  ivory  ferns,  and  the  air 
was  spicy  and  scented  with  vanilla. 

Beyond  the  gardens  was  the  Bay  of  Rio  de  Janeiro,  the 
most  beautiful  bay  in  all  the  world,  dominated  by  the 
great  sugar-loaf  mountain,  the  Pao  de  Azucar,  and  studded 
with  green  islands. 

Gideon  Morse  took  a  pair  of  high-powered  field-glasses 
from  a  table  by  his  side  and  focused  them  upon  the  harbor. 

A  large  white  yacht,  lying  off  Governador,  swam  into 
the  circle,  a  five-thousand-ton  boat  driven  by  turbines  and 
oil  fuel,  the  fastest  and  largest  private  yacht  in  existence. 

Gideon  Morse  gave  a  little  quiet,  patient  sigh,  as  if  of 
relief. 

He  was  a  man  of  sixty  odd,  with  a  thick  thatch  of  white 
hair  which  came  down  upon  his  wrinkled  forehead  in  a 
peak.  His  face  was  tanned  to  the  color  of  an  old  saddle, 
his  nose  beaked  like  a  hawk,  and  his  mouth  was  a  mere 
lipless  cut  which  might  have  been  made  by  a  knife.  A 
strong  jaw  completed  an  impression  of  abnormal  quiet, 
and  long  enduring  strength.  Indeed  the  whole  face  was 
a  mask  of  immobility.  Beneath  heavy  black  brows  were 
eyes  as  dark  as  night,  clear,  but  without  expression.  No 
one  looking  at  them  could  ever  tell  what  were  the  thoughts 
behind.  For  the  rest,  he  was  a  man  of  medium  height, 
thick-set,  wiry,  and  agile. 

A  brief  sketch  of  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse's  career  must 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  ii 

be  given  here.  His  mother  was  a  Spanish  lady  of  good 
family,  resident  in  Brazil;  his  father  an  American  gentle- 
man of  Old  Virginia,  who  had  settled  there  after  the  war 
between  North  and  South.  Morse  was  born  a  native  of 
Brazil.  His  parents  left  him  a  moderate  fortune  which  he 
proceeded  to  expand  with  extraordinary  rapidity  and  suc- 
cess. When  the  last  Emperor,  Dom  Pedro  II.,  was  deposed 
in  1889,  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse  was  indeed  a  rich  man, 
and  a  prominent  politician. 

He  took  a  great  part  in  establishing  the  Republic,  though 
in  his  earlier  years  he  had  leaned  towards  the  Monarchy, 
and  he  shared  in  the  immense  prosperity  which  followed 
the  change. 

His  was  not  a  paper  fortune.  The  fluctuations  of  stocks 
and  shares  could  hardly  influence  it.  He  owned  immense 
coffee  plantations  in  Para,  and  was  practically  the  monopo- 
list of  the  sugar  regions  of  Maranhao,  but  his  greatest 
revenues  came  from  his  immense  holdings  in  gold,  man- 
ganese, and  diamond  mines.  He  had  married  a  Spanish 
lady  early  in  his  career  and  was  now  a  widower  with  one 
daughter. 

She  came  up  upon  the  roof-garden  now,  a  tall  slip  of 
a  girl  "with  an  immense  quantity  of  lustrous,  dead-black  hair, 
and  a  voice  as  clear  as  an  evening  bell. 

"Father,"  she  said  in  English — she  had  been  at  school 
at  Eastbourne,  and  had  no  trace  of  Spanish  accent — "what 
is  the  exact  hour  that  we  sail?" 

Morse  slipped  out  of  the  hammock  and  took  her  arm  in 
his. 


12  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"At  ten  to-night,  Juanita,"  he  replied,  patting  her  hand. 
"Are  you  glad,  then?" 

"Glad!     I  cannot  tell  you  how  much." 

"To  leave  all  this" — he  waved  his  hand  at  what  was 
probably  the  most  perfect  prospect  earth  has  to  offer — "to 
leave  all  this  for  the  fogs  and  gloom  of  London?" 

"I  don't  mind  the  fogs,  which,  by  the  way,  are  tremen- 
dously exaggerated.  Of  course  I  love  Rio,  father,  but  I 
long  to  be  in  London,  the  heart  of  the  world,  where  all 
the  nicest  people  are  and  where  a  girl  has  freedom  such 
as  she  never  has  here." 

"Freedom!"  he  said.  "Ah!" — and  was  about  to  con- 
tinue when  a  native  Indian  servant  in  a  uniform  of  white 
linen  with  gold  shoulder  knots,  advanced  towards  them 
with  a  salver  upon  which  were  two  calling  cards. 

Morse  took  the  cards.  A  slight  gleam  came  into  his 
eyes  and  passed,  leaving  his  face  as  impassive  as  before. 

"You  must  run  away,  darling,"  he  said  to  Juanita.  "I 
have  to  see  some  gentlemen.  Are  all  your  preparations 
made?" 

"Everything.  All  the  luggage  has  gone  down  to  the  har- 
bor except  just  a  couple  of  hand-bags  which  my  maid  has." 

"Very  well  then,  we  will  have  an  early  meal  and  leave 
at  dusk." 

The  girl  flitted  away.  Morse  gave  some  directions  to 
the  servant,  and,  shortly  after,  the  rattle  of  a  lift  was 
heard  from  a  little  cupola  in  one  corner  of  the  roof. 

Two  men  stepped  out  and  came  among  the  palms  and 
flowers  to  the  millionaire. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  13 

One  was  a  thin,  dried-up,  elderly  man  with  a  white 
mustache — the  Marquis  da  Silva;  his  companion,  powerful, 
black-bearded  and  yellow-faced,  obviously  with  a  touch  of 
the  half-caste  in  him — Don  Zorilla  y  Toro. 

"Pray  be  seated,"  said  Morse,  with  a  low  bow,  though 
he  did  not  offer  to  shake  hands  with  either  of  them.  "May 
I  ask  to  what  I  owe  the  pleasure  of  this  visit?" 

"It  is  very  simple,  senor,"  said  the  marquis,  "and  you 
must  have  expected  a  visit  sooner  or  later." 

The  old  man,  speaking  in  the  pure  Spanish  of  Castille, 
trembled  a  little  as  he  sat  at  a  round  table  of  red  lima- 
wood  encrusted  with  mother-of-pearl. 

"We  are,  in  short,"  said  the  burly  Zorilla,  "ambassa- 
dors." 

They  were  now  all  seated  round  the  table,  under  the  shade 
of  a  palm  whose  great  fans  clicked  against  each  other  in  the 
evening  breeze  which  began  to  blow  from  the  cool  heights 
of  the  sugar-loaf  mountain.  The  face  of  Gideon  Morse 
was  inscrutable  as  ever.  It  might  have  been  a  mask  of 
leather;  but  the  old  Spanish  nobleman  was  obviously  ill  at 
ease,  and  the  bulging  eyes  of  the  well-dressed  half-caste, 
with  his  diamond  cuff  links  and  ring,  spoke  of  suppressed 
and  furious  passion. 

In  a  moment  tragedy  had  come  into  this  paradise. 

"Yes,  we  are  ambassadors,"  echoed  the  marquis  with  a 
certain  eagerness. 

"A  grand  and  full-sounding  word,"  said  Gideon  Morse. 
"I  may  be  permitted  to  ask — from  whom?" 

Quick  as  lightning  Don  Zorilla  held  out  his  hand  over 


14  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

the  table,  opened  it,  and  closed  it  again.  There  was  a 
little  glint  of  light  from  his  palm  as  he  did  so. 

Morse  leant  back  in  his  chair  and  smiled.  Then  he  lit 
one  of  his  pungent  cigarettes. 

"So!     Are  you  playing  with  those  toys  still,  gentlemen?" 

The  marquis  flushed.  "Mendoza,"  he  said,  "this  is  idle 
trifling.    You  must  know  very  well — " 

"I  know  nothing,  I  want  to  know  nothing." 

The  marquis  said  two  words  in  a  low  voice,  and  then 
the  heads  of  the  three  men  drew  very  close  together.  For 
two  or  three  minutes  there  was  a  whispering  like  the  rustle 
of  the  dry  grasses  of  the  Brazilian  campos,  and  then  Morse 
drew  back  his  chair  with  a  harsh  noise. 

"Enough!"  he  said.  "You  are  madmen,  dreamers!  You 
come  to  me  after  all  these  years,  to  ask  me  to  be  a  party 
in  destroying  the  peace  and  prosperity  our  great  country 
enjoys  and  has  enjoyed  for  more  than  thirty  years.  You 
ask  me,  twice  President  of  the  Republic  which  I  helped  to 
make — " 

Zorilla  lifted  his  hand  and  the  great  Brazilian  diamonds 
in  his  rings  shot  out  baleful  fires. 

"Enough,  seiior,"  he  said  in  a  thick  voice.  "That  is 
your  unalterable  decision?" 

Morse  laughed  contemptuously.  "While  Azucar  stands," 
he  said,  "I  stand  where  I  am,  and  nothing  will  change 
me." 

"You  stand  where  you  are,  Mendoza,"  said  the  marquis 
with  a  new  gravity  and  dignity  in  his  voice,  "but  I  assure 
you  it  will  not  be  for  long.    You  have  two  years  to  run, 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  15 

that's  true.  But  at  the  end  of  them  be  sure,  oh,  be  very 
sure,  that  the  end  will  come,  and  swiftly." 

Morse  rose. 

"I  will  endeavor  to  put  the  remaining  two  years  to  good 
use,"  he  said,  with  grim  and  almost  contemptuous  mockery. 

"Do  so,  seiior,"  said  Zorilla,  "but  remember  that  in  our 
forests  the  traveler  may  press  onward  for  days  and  weeks, 
and  all  the  time  in  the  tree-tops,  the  silent  jaguar  is  fol- 
lowing, following,  waiting — " 

"I  have  traveled  a  good  deal  in  our  forests  in  my  youth, 
Don  Zorilla.    I  have  even  slain  many  jaguars." 

The  three  men  looked  at  each  other  steadily  and  long, 
then  the  two  visitors  bowed  and  turned  to  go.  But,  just 
as  they  were  moving  off  towards  the  lift  dome,  Zorilla  turned 
back  and  held  out  a  card  to  Don  Mendoza.  It  was  an 
ordinary  visiting  card  with  a  name  engraved  upon  it. 

Morse  took  it,  looked  at  the  name,  and  then  stood  still 
and  frozen  in  his  tracks. 

He  did  not  move  until  the  whirr  of  the  bell  and  the  clang 
of  the  gate  told  him  the  roof-garden  was  his  own  again. 

Then  he  staggered  to  the  table  like  a  drunken  man,  sank 
into  a  chair  and  bowed  his  head  upon  the  gleaming  pearl 
and  crimson. 


CHAPTER   ONE 

When  my  father  died  and  left  me  his  large  fortune  I  also 
inherited  that  very  successful  London  newspaper,  the  Eve- 
ning Special.    I  decided  to  edit  it  myself. 

To  be  six-and-twenty,  to  live  at  high  pressure,  to  go 
everywhere,  see  everything,  know  everybody,  and  above 
all  to  have  Power,  this  is  success  in  life.  I  would  not  have 
changed  my  position  in  London  for  the  Premiership. 

On  the  evening  of  Lady  Brentford's  dance,  I  dined  alone 
in  my  Piccadilly  fiat.  There  was  nothing  much  doing  in 
the  way  of  politics  and  I  had  been  playing  golf  at  San- 
down  the  whole  of  the  day.  I  hadn't  seen  the  paper  until 
now,  when  Preston  brought  it  in — the  last  edition — and  I 
opened  it  over  my  coffee. 

There  were,  and  are,  few  things  that  I  love  better  than 
the  Evening  Special.  I  claim  for  it  that  it  is  the  most  up- 
todate  evening  newspaper  in  England,  bright  and  readable 
from  the  word  "go,"  and  singularly  accurate  in  all  its  infor- 
mation. 

There  was  a  long  time  yet  before  I  need  dress,  and  I  sat 
by  the  balcony,  with  the  mellow  noises  of  Piccadilly  on 
an  early  summer's  evening  pouring  into  the  room,  and  read 
the  rag  through. 

On  one  of  the  last  pages,  where  the  society  gossip  and 
women's  chat  appear,  I  saw  something  that  interested  me. 

i6 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  17 

Old  Miss  Easey,  who  writes  the  society  news,  was  one  of 
my  most  valued  contributors.  With  her  hooked  nose,  her 
beady  black  eyes  and  marvelous  coffee-colored  wig,  she  went 
everywhere  by  right  of  birth,  for  she  was  connected  with 
half  the  peerage.  Her  news  was  accurate  and  real.  She 
faked  nothing,  because  she  got  all  her  stuff  from  the  inside, 
and  this  was  known  all  over  London.  She  was  well  worth 
the  thousand  a  year  I  paid  her,  and  the  daily  column  signed 
"Vera"  was  an  accepted  fact  in  the  life  of  London  society. 

To-day  the  old  girl  had  let  herself  go.  It  seemed — of 
course  there  had  been  paragraphs  in  the  papers  for  some 
days — that  the  great  Brazilian  millionaire,  Gideon  Men- 
doza  Morse,  had  exploded  in  society  like  a  bomb.  He  had 
taken  a  whole  floor  of  the  Ritz  Hotel,  and  it  was  rumored 
that  he  was  going  to  buy  an  empty  palace  in  Park  Lane 
and  astonish  town.  Every  one  was  saying  that  he  had 
wealth  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice — ^which  is,  of  course, 
awful  rot  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  because  there  are 
no  bounds  whatever  to  avarice. 

"Vera"  was  not  expatiating  upon  the  Brazil  Nut's  wealth, 
but  upon  his  only  daughter.  It  was  put  in  a  veiled  way, 
and  that  with  well-bred  reticence  for  which  we  paid  Miss 
Easey  a  thousand  a  year — no  cheap  gush,  thank  you,  in  the 
Evening  Special — that  Miss  Morse  was  a  young  girl  of 
such  superlative  loveliness  that  there  was  not  a  debutante  to 
come  within  a  mile  of  her.  I  gathered,  also,  that  the  young 
lady's  first  very  public  appearance  was  to  be  made  to-night 
at  the  house  of  the  Marchioness  of  Brentford  in  Belgrave 
Square. 


i8  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

The  news  certainly  gave  an  additional  interest  to  the 
prospect  of  the  evening,  and  I  wondered  what  the  girl 
was  really  like. 

I  had  motored  up  from  Sandown  and  sat  down  to  dinner 
as  I  was.  Perhaps  I  was  rather  tired,  but  as  I  sat  by  the 
window  and  dusk  came  over  the  Green  Park  while  all  the 
lights  of  Piccadilly  were  lit,  I  sank  into  a  sort  of  doze, 
assisted  by  the  deep,  organ-like  hum  of  the  everlasting 
traffic. 

Yes,  I  must  really  have  fallen  asleep,  for  I  was  certainly 
in  the  middle  of  some  wild  and  alluring  adventure,  when  I 
woke  with  a  start  to  find  all  the  lights  in  my  dining-room 
turned  on,  Preston  standing  by  the  door,  and  Pat  Moore 
shaking  me  violently  by  the  shoulder. 

"Confound  you,  don't  do  that!"  I  shouted,  jumping  up 
— Pat  Moore  was  six  feet  two  in  height,  and  the  heaviest 
man  in  the  Irish  Guards.  "Hallo,  what  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"It's  myself  that  has  looked  in  for  a  drink,"  he  said.  "I 
thought  we'd  go  to  the  ball  together." 

I  was  a  little  more  awake  by  this  time  and  saw  that  Pat 
was  in  full  evening  kit,  and  very  grand  he  looked.  He 
was  supposed  to  be  the  handsomest  man  in  London,  on 
the  large  swaggering  side,  and  certainly,  whether  in  uni- 
form or  mufti,  he  was  a  very  splendid  figure.  Nevertheless, 
he  had  no  more  idea  of  side  than  a  spaniel  dog,  and  he 
was  just  about  as  kind  and  faithful  as  the  sportsman's 
friend.  He  possessed  a  certain  downright  honesty  and 
common  sense  that  endeared  him  to  every  one,  though  his 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  19 

own  mother  would  hardly  have  called  him  clever.  At  an 
earlier  period  of  our  lives  he  had  caned  me  a  good  deal 
at  Eton,  and  it  was  difficult  to  get  out  of  his  dear,  stupid 
old  head  that  he  had  not  some  vague  rights  over  me  in  that 
direction  still. 

"Now,  Tom,"  he  said,  pouring  himself  out  a  mighty  drink 
— for  his  head  was  cast-steel,  "you  go  and  make  yourself 
look  pretty  and  then  come  back  here,  'cos  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you." 

I  went  obediently  away,  bathed,  shaved,  was  assisted  by 
Preston  into  evening  clothes  and  returned  to  the  dining- 
room  about  a  quarter  to  ten. 

"What  have  you  got  to  tell  me,  Pat?" 

He  thought  for  a  moment.  I  believe  that  he  always 
had  to  summon  his  words  out  of  some  cupboard  in  his 
brain — "Tom,  I've  seen  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the 
world." 

"Then  leg  it,  Pat,  hare  away  from  temptation,  or  she'll 
have  you!" — Pat  had  ten  thousand  a  year  and  had  been 
a  dead  mark  for  all  sorts  of  schemes  for  the  last  two 
years. 

"Don't  be  a  silly  ass,  Tom,  you  don't  know  what  you're 
talking  about.    This  is  serious." 

"I  don't  know  who  you're  talking  about." 

He  was  heaving  himself  out  of  his  chair  to  explain,  when 
the  door  opened  and  Preston  announced  "Lord  Arthur 
Winstanley." 

"Hallo,  what  brings  you  here?"  I  said. 

"Thought  I'd  come  in  for  a  drink.    Saw  you  were  going 


20  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

to  mother's  to-night,  Tom,  thought  we  might  as  well  be 
going  together.    Hallo,  Pat.    You  coming  along  too?" 

"Thought  of  doin'  so,"  said  Captain  Moore. 

Arthur  threw  himself  into  a  chair — slim,  clean  shaved, 
with  curly  black  hair  and  dark  blue  eyes,  his  clean-cut, 
clever  face  alive  with  youth  and  vitality. 

"Tom,"  he  said  to  me,  *'to-night  you  are  going  to  see 
the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world." 

*'Hallo!"  Pat  shouted,  "you've  seen  her  too?" 

"Seen  her?  Of  course  I  have.  Mother's  giving  the  dance 
for  her  to-night." 

Then  I  understood. 

"Oh,  Miss  Morse?"  I  said. 

"Jooaneeta!"  said  Pat  in  his  rich,  Irish  voice. 

"Generally  pronounced  'Whanita'  soft — ^like  tropic  moon- 
light, my  old  geranium,"  said  Arthur. 

"Sure,  your  pronunciation  won't  do  at  all,  at  all." 

Pat  twirled  the  end  of  his  huge  mustache,  then  he  heaved 
a  cushion.    "You  and  your  talk!"  he  said. 

"Well,  I've  not  seen  her,"  I  remarked,  "but  I'm  quite 
willing  to  take  the  word  of  two  experts.  Isn't  it  about  time 
we  went?" 

Winstanley  produced  a  platinum  watch  no  thicker  than 
a  half-crown  from  the  pocket  of  his  white  waistcoat. 

"Well,  perhaps  it  might  be,"  he  said.  "We  can  take 
up  strategic  positions,  and  get  there  before  the  crush.  Al- 
though I  don't  live  at  home,  I've  got  a  snug  little  couple  of 
rooms  they  keep  for  me,  and  mother  will  see  that — " 

He  smiled  to  himself. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  21 

"Now  look  here,"  I  said,  "fair  does!  You  are  already 
half-way  up  the  course  with  the  fair  Brazilian,  but  do 
let  your  pals  have  a  chance.  I  suppose  all  the  world  will 
be  round  her,  but  do  see  that  Pat  and  I  have  a  small 
look  in." 

"Of  course  I  will.  We've  done  too  much  hunting  to- 
gether, we  three.  I  tell  you,  Tom,  you  will  be  bowled  clean 
over  at  the  very  sight  of  her.  There  never  was  such  a  girl 
since  Cleopatra  was  a  flapper.  Now,  send  old  Preston  for 
a  taxi  and  we'll  get  to  cover  side." 

It  was  about  half-past  ten  as  we  entered  the  hospitable 
portals  of  Brentford  House  in  Belgrave  Square.  There 
was  a  tremendous  crush;  I  never  remember  seeing  so  many 
people  at  Lady  Brentford's,  for,  though  everybody  went 
to  her  parties,  they  were  never  overcrowded,  owing  to  the 
immense  size  of  the  famous  old  London  House. 

Pat  Moore  and  I  kept  close  to  Arthur,  who,  as  a  son  of 
the  house,  knew  his  way  a  great  deal  better  than  we  did, 
and  we  soon  found  ourselves  at  the  top  of  the  staircase 
and  close  to  the  alcove  where  Lady  Brentford  and  her 
daughter,  Lady  Joan  Winstanley,  were  standing,  while  I 
saw  the  bald  head  of  the  marquis,  who  was  as  innocent 
of  hair  as  a  new  laid  egg,  shining  in  the  background. 

Dear  Lady  Brentford  greeted  Pat — ^who  had  formed  a 
sort  of  battering-ram  for  us  on  the  staircase — with  marked 
kindness.  It  was  thought  that  she  saw  in  him  a  pros- 
pective husband  for  Arthur's  sister.  After  greeting  his 
mother  and  asking  a  question,  Arthur  went  off  at  once 
and  my  turn  came. 


22  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"My  dear  Sir  Thomas,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  Are 
you  like  all  the  other  young  men  in  London  to-night?" 

"I  sincerely  hope  not,"  I  told  her,  though  I  knew  very 
well  what  she  meant. 

We  were  old  friends,  and  she  was  not  deceived  for  a 
moment,    "I  understand  you  perfectly,  you  wicked  boy." 

'  'Well  then,  Lady  Brentford" — I  lowered  my  voice — "has 
she  come?" 

Her  eyes  gleamed. 

"Not  yet,  but  I  am  expecting  her  every  moment.  Now, 
I  am  going  to  be  kind  to  you.  You  wait  here,  just  a  little 
behind  me,  and  I'll  introduce  you  at  once." 

I  hope  I  looked  as  grateful  as  I  felt,  for  I  confess  my 
curiosity  was  greatly  aroused,  and  besides  it  would  be  such 
a  score  over  Pat  and  Arthur.  There's  something  in  power 
after  all!  Had  I  been  merely  Tom  Kirby  whose  father 
had  received  a  baronetcy  for,  say,  soap,  Lady  Brentford 
would  not  have  been  nearly  as  nice,  even  though  Arthur 
and  I  had  been  bosom  friends  at  Oxford.  But  you  see  I 
was  the  Evening  Special  and  that  meant  much,  especially 
in  a  political  house  like  this. 

I  waited,  and  talked  a  little  with  Lord  Brentford,  that 
sterling,  old-fashioned  member  of  more  Cabinets  than  one 
would  care  to  count.  He  said  "hum,"  and  then  "ha,"  and 
then  "hum"  again,  which  was  the  extent  of  his  conversa- 
tion on  every  occasion  except  that  of  a  specially  good  din- 
ner, when  he  added  "ho." 

And  then,  I  suppose  it  was  about  eleven  o'clock,  there 
was  a  stir  and  a  movement  all  down  the  grand  staircase. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  23 

Except  that  the  band  in  the  ballroom  did  not  burst  into 
the  strains  of  the  National  Anthem,  it  was  exactly  like  the 
arrival  of  royalty.  Coming  up  the  staircase  was  a  thick- 
set man  of  medium  height  with  white  hair,  a  brown  face, 
and  good  features,  but  of  such  immobility  that  they  might 
have  been  carved  in  sandstone.  By  his  side,  very  simply 
dressed,  and  wearing  no  ornament  but  one  rope  of  great 
pearls,  came  Juanita  Morse. 

If  I  live  for  a  thousand  years  I  shall  never  forget  that 
first  vision  of  her.  I  have  seen  all  the  beauties  of  London, 
Paris  and  Rome,  danced  with  many  of  them,  spoken  at 
least  to  the  majority,  but  never  before  or  since  have  I  seen 
such  luminous  and  compelling  loveliness.  It  is  almost  im- 
possible for  me  to  describe  her,  a  presumption  indeed,  when 
so  many  abler  pens  than  mine  have  hymned  her  praises. 
The  poets  of  two  Continents  have  lain  their  garlands  of 
song  at  her  little  feet.  She  has  been  the  theme  of  innu- 
merable articles  in  the  Press,  the  heroine  of  a  dozen  novels. 
And  yet  I  must  give  some  impression  of  her,  I  suppose. 
She  was  slender  and  tall,  though  not  too  tall.  Her  hair, 
which  must  have  fallen  to  her  feet  and  enveloped  her  like 
a  cloud  of  night,  was  dead  black.  But  it  was  not  the 
coarse,  lifeless  black  of  so  many  women  of  the  Latin  race. 
It  was  as  fine  as  spun  silk,  gleaming,  vital  and  full  of 
electricity — a  live  thing  of  itself,  so  it  seemed  to  me.  Her 
father's  eyes  were  unpolished  jet,  but  hers  were  of  a  deep 
blue-black,  large,  lustrous,  and  of  unfathomable  depth. 
They  were  never  the  same  for  two  moments  together  and 
the  light  within  them  was  forever  new.     But  what's  the 


24  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

good  of  a  catalogue — after  all,  it  expresses  very  little. 
There  was  not  a  feature  of  her  face,  not  a  line  of  her  form 
that  was  not  perfect,  and  her  smile  was  the  last  real  en- 
chantment left  in  the  modern  world.  .  .  . 

In  two  minutes,  I,  I — Tom  Kirby,  was  walking  towards 
the  ballroom  with  her  hand  upon  my  arm.  How  all  the 
women  stared,  nodded  and  whispered!  how  all  the  men 
hated  me!  I  caught  sight  of  Pat  and  Arthur,  and,  lo! 
their  faces  were  as  those  who  lie  in  wait,  who  grin  like 
dogs  and  run  about  the  city — as  I  told  them  some  hours 
afterwards. 

Thank  heavens  that  all  the  vulgar  modern  dances  were 
not  only  perishing  of  their  own  inanity  at  that  time,  but 
had  never  been  allowed  in  Brentford  House.  The  best  band 
in  town  had  begun  a  delightful  waltz,  and  we  slipped  into 
it  together  as  if  passing  through  curtains  into  dreamland. 

I  don't  remember  that  we  said  very  much  to  each  other 
— certainly  I  was  not  going  to  ask  her  how  she  liked  Lon- 
don and  so  forth.  She  did  not  seem  the  sort  of  girl  to 
appreciate  the  farthing  change  of  talk. 

But,  somehow  or  other,  we  conversed  with  our  eyes. 
I  was  as  certain  of  this  as  of  the  fact  that  I  was  dancing 
with  her,  and,  long  after,  in  a  situation  and  moment  of 
the  most  deadly  peril,  she  confessed  it  to  me. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  dance,  when  the  flutes  and  vic^ 
lins  glided  into  the  last  movement,  I  said  this — "Miss 
Morse,  I  know  that  I  am  doing  the  most  dreadful  thing. 
All  London  wants  to  dance  with  you  to-night,  and  I  have 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  25 

had  the  great  privilege  of  being  the  very  j&rst.  But  could 
you,  do  you  think  you  possibly  could,  give  me  just  one 
more  dance  later  on  in  the  evening?" 

"Of  course  I  will,  Sir  Thomas,"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
was  as  clear  as  an  evening  bell.  "I  think  you  dance  beau- 
tifully." 

We  circled  round  the  room  for  the  last  time  and  then 
I  resigned  her  to  Lady  Brentford,  who  was  looking  after 
the  girl,  with  an  eloquent  look  of  thanlcs.  Immediately 
she  became  swallowed  up  by  a  regiment  of  black  coats,  and 
I  saw  her  no  more  for  a  time. 

I  am  extremely  fond  of  dancing,  but  I  sought  out  no 
other  damsel  now,  but  went  to  a  buffet  and  drank  a  long 
glass  of  iced  hock-cup — as  if  that  was  going  to  quench  the 
fever  within!  Then  I  found  my  way  to  a  lonely  spot  in 
one  of  the  conservatories  and  sat  thinking  hard.  I  will  say 
nothing  as  to  the  nature  of  my  reverie — it  may  very  easily 
be  guessed.  But  from  time  to  time  I  concentrated  all  my 
powers  in  living  over  again  the  divine  moments  of  that 
dance.  I  was  finally,  irrevocably,  passionately  in  love.  It 
seems  the  maddest  thing  to  say  for  a  hard-headed,  level- 
minded  man  of  the  world  such  as  I  was.  I  suppose  I 
had  known  her  for  just  about  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  yet 
I  knew  that  there  would  never  be  any  other  woman  for 
me  and  that  when  my  days  were  at  an  end  her  name  would 
be  the  only  one  upon  my  lips. 

A  little  later  on  in  the  evening,  before  my  second  and 
final  dance  with  his  daughter,  I  had  the  opportunity  of 


26  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

a  talk  with  Mr.  Morse  himself.  I  say  at  once,  and  I  am 
not  letting  myself  be  colored  by  what  happened  afterwards 
and  the  intimate  relations  into  which  I  was  thrown  with 
him,  I  say  at  once  that  I  found  him  charming.  There 
was  an  immense  force  and  power  about  him,  but  this  was 
not  obtruded  upon  one,  as  I  have  known  it  to  be  in  the 
case  of  other  extremely  wealthy  and  successful  men,  both 
English  and  American.  This  super-millionaire  had  all  the 
graces  of  speech  and  courtesy  of  manner  of  the  Spanish 
great  gentleman.  And  curiously  enough,  he  took  to  me.  I 
was  quite  certain  of  that.  Whether  he  wanted  to  use  me 
in  any  way — and  nine-tenths  of  the  people  I  met  generally 
did — I  could  not  have  said.  At  any  rate  I  determined  that 
if  he  did  I  was  very  much  at  his  disposal. 

We  watched  Miss  Morse  dancing  with  old  Pat,  who,  for 
all  his  sixteen  stone,  was  as  light  as  a  cat  on  his  feet. 

"Do  you  know  who  that  is  dancing  with  Juanita?"  Morse 
asked  simply. 

"Oh,  yes.  Captain  Moore,  Patrick  Moore,  of  the  Irish 
Guards.  He  is  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends  and  one 
of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world." 

Then  Morse  said  a  curious  thing,  which  I  could  not 
fathom  just  then.  He  said  it  half  to  me  and  half  to 
himself  in  a  curiously,  thoughtful  way. 

" — A  fine  fellow  to  have  with  one  in  an  emergency." 

Well,  of  course,  I  didn't  like  to  tell  him  that  dear  old 
Pat,  while  he  had  common  sense  enough  to  come  indoors 
while  it  rained,  had  no  mind — in  the  real  sense  of  that  word 
— whatever.     It  did  not  occur  to  me  for  a  moment  that 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  27 

Gideon  Morse  might  have  been  speaking  simply  of  Pat's 
physical  qualities. 

Pat's  face  was  marvelous  to  look  upon.  It  was  one 
great,  glowing  mass  of  happiness.  He  did  not  take  the 
least  trouble  to  disguise  his  ecstasy,  and  if  ever  a  man 
showed  he  was  in  paradise,  Pat  Moore  did  then.  It  was 
different  when  Juanita  danced  with  Arthur.  His  hand- 
some, clever  face  was  not  in  repose  for  a  moment.  It  was 
sharpened  by  eagerness,  and  he  talked  incessantly,  provok- 
ing answering  smiles  and  flashes  from  the  girl's  wonderful 
eyes.  My  heart  sank.  I  knew  how  Arthur  Winstanley 
could  talk  when  he  chose — as  all  England  was  to  learn 
two  or  three  years  later  when  he  entered  the  House  of 
Commons. 

"And  that  man?" — the  low,  resonant  voice  of  Mr.  Morse 
was  again  in  my  ears,  for  I  had  been  neglecting  my  duties 
to  all  the  girls  I  knew,  most  dreadfully,  and  remained  with 
him  for  the  space  of  three  dances. 

"Oh,  that's  another  friend  of  mine,  Lord  Arthur  Win- 
stanley. He  is  a  son  of  the  house,  the  second  son.  Charles, 
the  heir,  is  with  his  regiment  in  India." 

Mr.  Morse  thanked  me  and  soon  afterwards  two  very 
great  people  indeed  came  up,  and  I  melted  away.  I  went 
to  my  seat  in  the  conservatory  again.  I  did  not  care  how 
rude  it  was,  how  I  was  betraying  Lady  Brentford's  hos- 
pitality— being  known  as  a  dancing  man  and  expected  to 
dance — but  I  was  determined  not  to  touch  any  other  girl 
that  night  until  Juanita  Morse  and  I  had  danced  again 
together. 


28  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

It  came  and  passed.  Afterwards  I  slipped  downstairs, 
got  my  hat  and  overcoat  and  left  the  house,  without,  I 
think,  being  observed  by  any  one. 

The  night  air  was  fresh  and  sweet  and  I  determined  to 
walk  before  I  reached  home,  for  my  mind  was  in  a  whirl 
of  sensation.  I  turned  into  the  great,  dark  canon  of  Vic- 
toria Street,  which  was  almost  empty,  and  heard  my  foot- 
steps echoing  up  the  cliff-like  sides  of  the  houses.  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  moon  silvering  the  Campanile  of  West- 
minster Cathedral,  and  when  I  reached  the  Abbey,  it  and 
the  Houses  of  Parliament  were  washed  in  soft  and  bril- 
liant light.  And  yet,  somehow,  I  could  not  think.  I  could 
not  survey,  with  my  usual  cool  detachment,  the  situation 
which  had  suddenly  risen  in  my  life.  I  remember  that 
the  predominant  feeling  was  a  wish  that  I  had  never  gone 
to  Lady  Brentford's,  that  I  had  never  seen  or  spoken  to 
Juanita  Morse.  What  was  the  use  after  all?  She  was  as 
much  above  my  hopes  as  a  Princess  of  the  Royal  House, 
and  yet  I  knew  that  without  her  I  should  never  be  really 
happy  again. 

It  was  in  a  sort  of  desperation  that  I  hurried  up  Par- 
liament Street  and  through  Trafalgar  Square,  feeling  that 
I  was  a  fool  and  mad,  wanting  to  hide  my  shame  in 
my  own  quiet  rooms,  where  at  any  rate  I  should  be 
alone. 

I  opened  the  door  with  my  Yale  key  and  ran  lightly 
up  the  stairs  to  the  flat  on  the  first  floor  which  I  occupied. 
As  I  went  into  the  loimge  hall  and  took  off  my  overcoat, 
Preston,  whom  I  had  not  told  to  wait  up  for  me,  came 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  29 

from  the  passage  leading  to  the  servants'  quarters  carrying 
a  tray. 

"I  shan't  want  any  supper,  thank  you,  Preston,"  I  said 
in  surprise. 

"Thank  you,  sir,  very  good  sir,"  he  replied,  "but  his 
lordship  and  Captain  Moore  are  here  and  have  just  asked 
for  something." 

My  first  emotion  was  one  of  unutterable  surprise,  and 
then  I  scowled  and  felt  inclined  to  swear.  What  on  earth 
were  those  two  doing  here  at  this  time  of  night,  just  when 
I  would  have  given  almost  anything  to  be  left  alone? 

I  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then  walked  into  the 
smoking-room, 

Pat  was  seated  in  a  lounge  chair  smoking  a  cigar. 
Arthur  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  carpet.  Neither  of 
them  appeared  to  have  been  talking,  and,  as  I  came  in, 
they  looked  at  me  curiously,  and  I  saw  that  their  faces 
in  some  subtle  way  were  changed. 

They  were  my  best  friends,  for  years  we  had  been  ac- 
customed to  treat  each  other's  quarters  and  possessions 
as  if  they  were  our  own,  and  yet  now  I  felt  as  if  they 
were  intruding  strangers,  though  I  tried  hard  to  be  genial. 

"Hallo,"  I  said  in  a  voice  that  cracked  upon  the  word, 
"didn't  expect  to  see  you  again.    Anything  special?" 

Preston  was  putting  his  tray  of  sandwiches  and  dev- 
iled biscuits  on  the  table,  so  we  could  not  say  much,  but 
directly  he  had  left  the  room  old  Pat  got  up  from  his  chair. 
He  held  out  his  hand,  pointing  at  me  with  a  trembling  fin- 
ger.   His  face  was  purple. 


30  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"You,  you  danced  twice  with  her,"  he  said. 

So  that  was  it!     I  grew  ice-cold  in  a  moment. 

"I  won't  pretend  to  misunderstand  to  what  you  refer," 
I  said,  "but  what  the  devil  is  that  to  you?" 

"Pat,  don't  be  a  fool!"  Arthur  whipped  out,  though 
the  look  he  gave  me,  which  he  tried  to  disguise,  was  not  a 
friendly  one. 

"Fool  is  hardly  the  word,"  I  said.  "Kindly  explain 
yourself,  Moore,  and  forget  that  you  are  my  guest  if  you 
like — I  don't  mind." 

The  huge  man  trembled.  Then  he  turned  away  with  a 
sort  of  snarl,  snatched  his  handkerchief  from  his  cuff  and 
mopped  his  face. 

I  sat  down  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"Can  you  explain  this,  Arthur?"  I  asked. 

He  sat  down  too,  and  began  to  tap  with  his  shoe  upon 
the  carpet. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  said  sullenly.  "You  were  the 
only  man  in  the  room,  Kirby,  to  whom  she  gave  more  than 
one  dance." 

"That's  as  may  be.  I  suppose  you  don't  propose  to 
expostulate  with  the  lady  herself?  And,  by  the  way,  I 
always  thought  that  it  wasn't  exactly  form  to  discuss  these 
things  in  the  way  you  appear  to  have  been  doing." 

That  got  Arthur  on  the  mark.  His  face  grew  very  white 
and  he  sat  perfectly  still. 

Then  Pat  heaved  himself  round. 

"She's  not  for  you,  at  any  rate,"  he  said.  "They  will 
marry  her  to  a  duke  or  one  of  the  Princes." 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  31 

Suddenly  the  humor  of  all  this  struck  me  forcibly  and 
I  lay  back  in  my  chair  and  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"That's  quite  likely,"  I  said,  "though  I  don't  thinlc, 
what  I  have  seen  of  Mr.  Morse,  that  he  is  likely  to  have 
ambitions  that  way,  and  I  am  quite  certain  that  IMiss 
Morse  will  marry  the  man  she  wants  to  marry  and  no  one 
else,  whether  he  is  a  thoroughbred  or  hairy  at  the  heels. 
I  think  all  this  talk  on  your  part — remember  you  began 
it,  Pat — is  perfectly  disgraceful,  to  say  nothing  of  its  utter 
childishness.  As  for  your  saying  that  a  young  lady  whom 
I  have  met  for  the  first  time  to-night  and  danced  with 
twice,  is  not  for  me,  it's  a  damnable  piece  of  impertinence 
that  you  should  dare  to  insinuate  that  I  look  upon  her  in 
the  way  you  suggest." 

I  jumped  up  from  my  seat  and  knew  that  I  was  domi- 
nating them  all  right. 

"Supposing  what  you  say  is  true,  I  admit  that  my  chance 
isn't  worth  two  penn'orth  o'  cold  gin,  though  it's  every 
bit  as  good,  and  probably  better,  than  yours,  all  things  con- 
sidered.   You  are  certainly  a  fine  figure  of  a  man." 

I  was  furious,  mad,  keen  to  provoke  him  to  an  outburst. 
The  calculated  insult  was  patent  enough. 

I  thought  he  was  about  to  go  for  me,  and  I  stood  ready, 
when  "What  about  me?"  came  in  a  dry  crackling  voice  from 
Arthur. 

"Oh,  I  should  put  you  and  me  about  level,"  I  said,  with 
the  courtesy  title  as  a  little  extra  weight.  It  is  a  pity  you 
should  be  the  second  son." 

"Damn  you,  Kirby!"  he  burst  out,  blazing  with  anger. 


32  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

I  lifted  up  my  hand  and  looked  at  both  of  them. 

"I  came  in  here,"  I  said,  "to  my  own  house  and  find  my 
two  best  friends,  that  I  thought,  waiting  for  me.  A  few 
hours  ago  I  should  have  thought  such  a  scene  as  this  utterly 
impossible.  I  will  ask  you  both  to  remember  that  it  has 
not  been  provoked  by  me  in  any  way,  and  that  directly 
I  came  in  you  turned  on  me  in  the  most  atrocious  and  ill- 
bred  way.  Of  your  idea  of  the  value  of  friendship  I  say 
nothing  at  all — it  is  obvious  I  must  say  nothing  about  that. 
Now  you  have  forced  the  pace  I  will  say  this.  To  marry 
that  yoimg  lady — I  don't  like  to  speak  her  name  even — is 
about  as  difficult  as  to  dive  in  a  cork  jacket  or  keep  a  smelt 
in  a  net.  But  I  mean  to  try.  I  mean  to  use  every  ounce 
of  weight  I've  got.  I  shall  almost  certainly  fail,  but  now 
you  know." 

"Since  you  have  said  that,"  Pat  broke  in,  "handicaps 
be  damned!  I'm  a  starter  for  the  same  stakes,  and  it's 
hell  for  leather  I'll  ride,  and  it's  meself  that  says  it,  Tom." 

Arthur  Winstanley  spoke  last. 

"I'm  a  fellow  of  a  good  many  ambitions,"  he  said  quietly, 
"though  I've  never  bothered  you  chaps  with  them.  Now 
they  are  all  consolidated  into  one." 

Then  we  all  stood  and  looked  at  each  other,  the  cards 
on  the  table,  and  in  the  faces  of  the  other  two  at  least 
there  was  uneasiness  and  shame. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  fuimy  thing  happened.  Preston 
had  brought  in  an  ice  pail  full  of  bottles  of  soda  water. 
The  heat  of  the  night,  or  something,  caused  one  of  the 
corks  to  break  its  confining  wire  and  go  off  with  a  star- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  33 

tling  report,  while  a  fountain  of  foam  drenched  the  sand- 
wiches. 

"Me  kingdom  for  a  drink!"  said  Pat.  "Oh,  the  sweet, 
blessed,  gurgling  sound!"  and  striding  to  the  table  he  mixed 
a  gargantuan  peg. 

Arthur  and  I  met  behind  Pat's  back  and  he  held  out 
his  hand  to  me,  biting  his  lower  lip. 

"We've  behaved  abominably,  old  soul,"  he  said. 

The  big  guardsman  turned  round  and  raised  his  glass 
on  high. 

"Here's  to  the  sweetest  and  most  lovely  lady  in  the 
world,  bedad!"  he  shouted,  accentuating  his  Irish  brogue. 
"May  the  best  man  win  her,  fair  fight,  and  no  favors,  and 
may  the  Queen  of  Heaven  and  all  the  saints  watch  over  the 
little  darlint  and  guide  her  choice  aright!" 

So  all  our  midnight  madness  passed  like  a  fleeting  cloud. 
An  extraordinary  accession  of  high  spirits  came  to  us  as 
we  pledged  the  dark-haired  maiden  from  Brazil.  And  it 
was  Pat,  dear  old  Pat,  who  welded  us  together  in  a  league 
of  chivalry  against  which  nothing  was  ever  to  prevail. 

"Tom,"  he  said,  "Arthur — we  are  all  like  brothers,  we 
always  have  been.  Let  there  be  no  change  in  that,  now 
or  ever.    I  have  something  to  propose." 

"Go  on,  Pat,"  said  Arthur. 

"Sure  then,  since  we  all  love  the  same  lady,  that  ought 
to  bind  us  more  together  than  anything  else  has  ever  done. 
But  since  we  cannot  all  marry  her,  let  us  agree,  in  the  first 
place,  that  no  outsider  ever  shall." 

"Hurrah!"  said  Arthur — ^I  could  see  that  he  was  fear- 


34  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

fully  excited — throwing  his  glass  into  the  fireplace  with 
a  crash. 

"I  am  with  you,  Pat!"  I  cried.  "It's  to  be  one  of  us 
three,  and  we  are  in  league  against  all  the  other  men  in 
London.    And  now  the  question  is — " 

"Hear  my  plan.  This  very  night  we'll  draw  lots  as  to 
which  of  us  shall  have  the  first  chance.  The  man  who 
wins  shall  have  the  entire  support  of  the  other  two  in  every 
possible  way.  If  she  accepts  him,  then  the  fates  have 
spoken.  If  she  doesn't,  then  the  next  man  in  the  draw 
shall  have  his  chance,  and  the  rejected  suitor  and  the  poor 
third  man  shall  help  him  to  the  utmost  of  their  ability.  Is 
that  clear?" 

He  stopped  and  looked  down  at  us  from  his  great  height 
with  a  smiling  and  anxious   face. 

Dear  old  Pat,  I  shall  always  love  to  think  that  the  pro- 
posal came  from  him,  straight,  clean  and  true,  as  he  always 
was. 

"So  be  it,"  Arthur  echoed  solemnly.  "The  league  shall 
begin  this  very  night.  Do  either  of  you  chaps  know  any 
Spanish,  by  the  way?" 

We  shook  our  heads. 

"Well,  I  do,"  he  continued,  "and  we'll  form  ourselves 
into  a  Santa  Hermandad — 'The  Holy  Brotherhood' — it  was 
the  name  of  an  old  Spanish  Society  of  chivalry  ever  so 
many  years  ago." 

"Santa  Hermandad!"  Pat  shouted,  "and  now  to  shake 
hands  on  it.    I  think  we'll  not  be  needing  to  take  an  oath." 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  35 

Our  three  hands  were  clasped  together  in  an  instant  and 
we  knew  that,  come  what  might,  each  would  be  true  to  that 
bond. 

"And  now,"  I  said,  "to  draw  lots  as  to  who  shall  be 
the  first  to  try  his  chance.    How  shall  we  settle  it?" 

"There's  no  fairer  way,"  said  Arthur,  "than  the  throw 
of  a  die.    Have  you  any  poker  dice,  Tom?" 

"Yes,  I  have  a  couple  of  sets  somewhere." 

"Very  well  then,  we'll  take  a  single  one  and  the  first  man 
that  throws  Queen  is  the  winner." 

I  found  the  dice  and  the  leather  cup  and  dropped  a 
single  one  into  it.  Poker  dice,  for  the  benefit  of  the  unini- 
tiate,  have  the  Queen  on  one  side  in  blue,  like  the  Queen 
in  a  pack  of  cards,  the  King  in  red  and  the  Knave  in  black. 
On  two  other  faces,  the  nine  and  the  ten. 

"Who  will  throw  first?"  said  Pat. 

"You  throw,"  I  said. 

There  was  a  rattle,  and  nine  fell  upon  the  table.  I 
nodded  to  Arthur,  who  picked  up  the  little  ivory  square, 
waved  the  cup  in  the  air,  and  threw — an  ace. 

My  turn  came.  I  threw  an  ace  also,  and  Arthur  and  I 
looked  at  Pat  with  sinking  hearts. 

He  threw  a  King.  I  don't  want  another  five  minutes 
like  that  again.  We  threw  and  threw  and  threw  and  never 
once  did  the  Queen  turn  up.    At  last  Arthur  said: 

"Look  here,  you  fellows,  I  can't  stand  this  much  longer, 
it's  playing  the  devil  with  my  nerves.  Let's  have  one  more 
throw  and  if  Her  Majesty  doesn't  turn  up,  let's  decide  it 


36  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

by  values.  Ace,  highest,  King,  Queen  and  so  on.  Tom, 
your  turn." 

I  took  up  the  box,  rattled  the  cube  within  it  for  a  long 
time  and  then  dropped  it  flat  upon  the  table. 

I  had  thrown  Queen. 


CHAPTER   TWO 

About  a  fortnight  after  the  memorable  scene  in  my  fiat 
when  the  league  came  into  being,  I  was  sitting  in  my  edi- 
torial room  at  the  offices  of  the  Evening  Special. 

I  had  met  Juanita  once  at  a  large  dinner  party  and 
exchanged  half  a  dozen  words  with  her — that  was  all.  My 
head  was  full  of  plans,  I  was  trying  to  map  out  a  social 
campaign  that  would  give  me  the  opportunity  I  longed  for, 
but  as  yet  everything  was  tentative  and  incomplete.  The 
exciting  business  of  journalism,  the  keeping  of  one's  thumb 
upon  the  public  pulse,  the  directing  of  public  thought  into 
this  or  that  channel,  was  most  welcome  at  a  time  like  this, 
and  I  threw  myself  into  it  with  avidity. 

I  had  just  returned  from  lunch,  and  the  first  editions  of 
the  paper  were  successfully  afloat,  when  Williams,  my  acting 
editor,  and  Miss  Dewsbury,  my  private  secretary,  came  into 
my  room. 

''Things  are  very  quiet  indeed,"  said  Williams. 

"But  the  circulation  is  all  right?" 

"Never  better.  Still,  I  am  thinking  of  our  reputation. 
Sir  Thomas." 

I  knew  what  he  meant.  We  had  never  allowed  the  Eve- 
ning Special — ^highly  successful  as  it  was — to  go  on  in  a 
jog-trot  fashion.  We  had  a  tremendous  reputation  for 
great  "stunts,"  genuine,  exclusive  pieces  of  news,  and  now 
for  weeks  nothing  particular  had  come  our  way. 

32 


38  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"That's  all  very  well,  Williams,  but  we  cannot  make 
bricks  without  straw,  and  if  everything  is  as  stagnant  as 
a  duck  pond,  that's  not  our  fault." 

Miss  Dewsbury  broke  in.  She  was  a  little  woman  of 
thirty  with  a  large  head,  fair  hair  drawn  tightly  from  a 
rather  prominent  brow,  and  wore  tortoise-shell  spectacles. 
She  looked  as  if  her  clothes  had  been  flung  at  her  and  had 
stuck,  but  for  all  that  Julia  Dewsbury  was  the  best  pri- 
vate secretary  in  London,  true  as  steel,  with  an  inordinate 
capacity  for  work  and  an  immense  love  for  the  paper.  I 
think  she  liked  me  a  little  too,  and  she  was  well  worth  the 
four  hundred  a  year  I  paid  her. 

"I,"  said  Miss  Dewsbury,  "live  at  Richmond." 

Both  Williams  and  I  cocked  our  ears.  Julia  never  wasted 
words,  but  she  liked  to  tell  her  story  her  own  way,  and 
it  was  best  to  let  her  do  so. 

"Ah!"  said  Williams  appreciatively. 

"And  I  believe,"  she  went  on,  "that  one  of  the  biggest 
newspaper  stories,  ever,  is  going  to  come  from  Richmond. 
It  is  something  that  will  go  round  the  world,  if  I  am  not 
very  much  mistaken,  and  we've  got  to  have  it  first.  Sir 
Thomas." 

Williams  gave  a  low  whistle,  and  I  strained  at  the  leash, 
so  to  speak. 

"I  refer,"  Miss  Dewsbury  went  on,  "to  the  great  wireless 
erections  on  Richmond  Hill." 

For  a  moment  I  felt  disappointed.  I  didn't  see  how 
interest  could  be  revived  in  that  matter  and  I  said  so. 

"Nearly  a  year  ago,"  I  remarked,  "every  paper  in  Eng- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  39 

land  Avas  booming  with  it.  We  did  our  share,  I'm  sure. 
No  one  could  have  protested  more  vigorously,  and  it  was 
the  Special  that  got  all  those  questions  asked  in  Parliament. 
But  surely.  Miss  Dewsbury,  it's  dead  as  mutton  now.  It's 
an  accepted  fact  and  the  public  have  got  used  to  it." 

"There's  nothing,"  said  Williams,  "more  impossible  than 
to  reanimate  a  dead  bit  of  news.  It's  been  tried  over  and 
over  again  and  it's  never  been  a  real  success." 

Miss  Dewsbury  smiled,  the  smile  that  means  "When 
you  poor  dear,  silly  men  have  done  talking,  then  you  shall 
hear  something."    I  saw  that  smile  and  took  courage  again, 

"Suppose,"  said  Miss  Dewsbury,  "that  we  just  look  up 
the  facts  as  a  preliminary  to  what  I  have  to  say." 

She  went  to  a  side  table  on  which  was  a  dial  with  little 
ivory  tablets,  each  bearing  a  name — Sub-editor's  room,  Com- 
posing room,  Mr.  Williams,  Library,  etc.,  and  she  pulled  a 
little  handle  over  the  last  disk,  immediately  speaking  into 
a  telephone  receiver  above. 

"Facts  relating  to  great  wireless  installment  on  Richmond 
Hill." 

A  bell  whirred  and  she  came  back  to  the  table  where 
we  were  sitting.  In  twenty  seconds — so  perfect  was  our 
organization  at  the  Special  office — a  youth  entered  with  a 
portfolio  containing  a  number  of  Press  cuttings,  photo- 
graphs, etc. 

Miss  Dewsbury  opened  it. 

"A  year  ago,"  she  said,  "the  real  estate  market  was 
greatly  interested  to  learn  that  Flight,  Jones  &  Rutley,  the 
well-known  agents,  had  secured  several  acres  of  property 


40  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

on  the  top  of  Richmond  Hill.  The  buyer's  name  was  not 
discovered,  but  an  enormously  wealthy  syndicate  was  sug- 
gested. At  that  time,  opportunely  chosen,  many  leases  had 
fallen  in.  Others  that  had  some  time  still  to  run  were 
bought  at  a  greatly  enhanced  value,  while  several  portions 
of  freehold  property  were  also  purchased  at  ten  times  their 
worth.  Houses  immediately  began  to  be  demolished,  im- 
mense compensation  was  paid  to  those  who  hung  out  and 
refused  to  quit  the  newly  purchased  area.  Pressure,  it 
is  hinted,  of  a  somewhat  imwarrantable  kind,  was  also 
applied.  The  sum  involved  was  enormous,  but  every  claim 
was  cheerfully  settled,  with  the  result  that  this  area  of 
several  acres  was  entirely  denuded  of  buildings  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  wall,  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of 
time." 

"The  most  beautiful  view  in  England  spoiled  forever!" 
said  Williams  with  a  sigh. 

Miss  Dewsbury  turned  over  a  few  leaves. 

"Of  course  you  will  both  remember  the  agitation  that 
went  on,  the  opposition  of  the  local  and  County  Councils, 
the  rage  of  Societies  for  preserving  the  ancient  monuments 
and  historic  places  of  interest,  etc.,  etc.  The  newspapers,  in- 
cluding ours,  took  up  the  matter  vigorously.  Then,  with 
a  curious  unanimity,  all  opposition  began  to  die  away.  It 
is  quite  certain  that  huge  sums  were  spent  in  buying  over 
the  objectors,  though  no  actual  proof  was  ever  discovered. 
The  matter  was  altogether  too  delicate  a  thing  and  was 
far  too  skillfully  worked. 

"Then  the  unknown  purchaser  began  to  build  the  three 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  41 

great  towers  now  approaching  completion.  An  army  of 
workmen  was  gathered  together  in  a  new  industrial  city 
between  Brentford  and  Hounslow.  Fleets  of  ships  bearing 
steel  girders  and  so  forth  arrived  from  America,  together 
with  a  hundred  highly  trained  engineers,  all  of  them 
Americans.  It  was  given  out  that  the  most  powerful  wire- 
less station  in  the  whole  world  was  to  be  constructed.  Again 
much  opposition,  appeals  to  the  Government,  questions  to 
the  Board  of  Trade  and  so  forth.  I  remember  that  very 
much  the  same  sort  of  thing  happened  in  Paris,  when  the 
Eiffel  Tower  was  first  constructed.  England's  agitation  was 
opposed  by  the  scientific  bodies  of  the  day,  and  there  were 
other  forces  behind  which  brought  pressure  to  bear  on  the 
Government.  That  also  is  certain,  though  nothing  has  actu- 
ally transpired  as  yet  in  this  regard.  Now  we've  three 
monstrous  towers,  each  of  nearly  two  thousand  feet  in  height 
— twice  the  height  of  the  Eiffel — dominating  London. 
Every  day  almost  we,  who  live  in  Richmond  and  the  sur- 
rounding towns,  see  these  monsters  shooting  up  higher 
into  the  air.  Often  half  of  them  is  veiled  by  clouds.  The 
most  tremendous  engineering  feat  in  the  history  of  the  world 
is  nearly  accomplished." 

Now  all  this  was  quite  familiar  to  me  and  in  common 
with  many  Londoners  I  had  begun  to  take  a  sort  of  la2y 
pride  in  the  gaunt  latticework  of  steel  which  seemed  climb- 
ing to  heaven  itself.  All  the  same  I  saw  no  great  jour- 
nalistic opportunity  and  I  said  so. 

"Let  us  consider  a  little,"  continued  the  imperturbable 
Julia.    "These  towers  are  not  Government  owned.    They 


42  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

are  the  property  of  some  private  syndicate.  The  secret 
has  been  kept  with  extraordinary  success.  All  the  Marconi 
shareholders  of  the  City,  all  the  big  financial  corporations, 
even  foreign  Governments,  have  been  trying  to  get  at  the 
root  of  the  matter.  Each  and  all  have  utterly  failed.  Yet 
our  own  Government  knows,  and  sooner  or  later  a  pro- 
nouncement will  have  to  be  made.  If  we  could  anticipate 
this,  then  the  interest  of  the  public  would  rise  to  fever 
heat  again,  and  we  should  have  a  scoop  of  the  first  magni- 
tude." 

I  saw  that  immediately,  and  so  did  Williams,  but  as  it 
was  obvious  Miss  Dewsbury  hadn't  quite  finished  we  just 
nodded  and  let  her  go  on. 

"Now  I  have  reason  for  thinking,"  she  said,  "and  I  am 
not  speaking  lightly.  Sir  Thomas,  that  there's  something 
behind  this  affair  of  a  totally  unexpected  and  startling  na- 
ture. Some  day,  no  doubt,  the  towers  will  be  used  for 
scientific  purposes,  but  there's  a  deep  mystery  surrounding 
everything,  and  one  very  different  from  what  we  might 
suppose.    I  think  we  can  penetrate  it." 

"Splendid! "  I  cried,  for  I  knew  very  well  that  Julia  Dews- 
bury  would  not  say  as  much  as  she  had  unless  there  was 
certainty  behind  her  words.  "And  how  do  you  propose  to 
start  work?" 

As  I  was  looking  at  her  she  flushed,  and  I  nearly  fell  off 
my  chair.  It  had  never  occurred  to  me  that  Miss  Dews- 
bury  could  blush,  in  fact,  that  she  was  human  at  all,  I  am 
afraid,  and  I  wondered  what  on  earth  was  the  matter. 

"May  I  make  a  little  personal  explanation,  Sir  Thomas?" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  43 

she  said.  "I  live  in  a  quiet  street  at  the  foot  of  Richmond 
Hill,  where  I  occupy  a  large  and  comfortable  bed-sitting 
room  in  'Balmoral/  Number  102,  Acacia  Road.  The  house 
is  kept  by  an  excellent  woman,  who  only  takes  in  one  other 
lodger.  You  pay  me  a  very  handsome  salary,  Sir  Thomas, 
and!  might  be  expected  to  live  in  a  more  commodious  way 
— a  flat  in  Kensington  or  something  like  that.  But  I  have 
other  claims  upon  me.  There  are  two  young  sisters  and  a 
brother  to  be  educated,  and  I  am  their  sole  support.  That's 
why  I  live  in  a  small  lodging  house  at  Richmond,  which, 
again,  is  the  reason  that  I  have  recently  come  into  contact 
with  some  one  who  may  be  of  inestimable  value  to  the 
paper." 

She  blushed  again,  upon  my  soul  she  did,  and  I  heard 
Williams  gasp  in  astonishment.  I  kicked  him,  under  the 
table. 

"The  other  bed-sitting  room  at  'Balmoral'  has  recently 
been  occupied  by  a  young  man,  perhaps  I  should  rather  say 
a  youth,  IVIr.  William  Rolston.  He  seemed  very  lonely  and 
quite  poor,  and  on  discussing  him  with  Mrs.  O'Hagan,  my 
landlady,  she  informed  me  that  she  more  than  suspected 
that  he  had  at  times  to  economize  grievously  in  the  matter 
of  food.  I  myself  used  to  hear  the  click  of  a  typewriter 
across  the  passage,  sometim.es  continuing  till  late  at  night, 
and  from  the  frequency  with  which  bulky  envelopes  arrived 
for  him  by  post,  it  vms  easy  to  deduce  that  he  was  an  un- 
successful author  or  journalist.  This  naturally  excited  my 
interest.  Mrs.  O'Hagan  has  no  idea  that  I  am  connected 
with  the  Evening  Special,  she  thinks  I  am  typist  in  a  city 


44  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

firm  of  hardware  merchants.  And  when  I  made  my  ac- 
quaintance with  Mr.  Rolston,  as  I  did  some  time  ago  owing 
to  his  back  number  Remington  going  wrong,  I  told  him 
nothing  but  that  I  myself  was  a  typist  and  stenographer. 
I  was  enabled  to  put  his  machine  right  and  we  became 
friends.  Am  I  boring  you,  Sir  Thomas,  and  Mr.  Williams?" 
she  said  suddenly,  with  a  quick  look  at  both  of  us. 

"On  the  contrary,"  I  replied,  "you  are  paying  us  a  great 
compliment,  Miss  Dewsbury,  in  allowing  us  to  know  some- 
thing of  your  own  private  affairs  in  order  that  you  may 
explain  how  you  propose  to  do  the  paper  a  signal  service." 

I  can  swear  that  the  little  woman's  eyes  grew  bright 
behind  her  tortoise-shell  spectacles  and  she  went  on  with 
renewed  confidence  of  manner. 

"I  have  been  associated  with  joiu-nalism  for  eight  years 
now,"  she  said.  "During  that  time  innumerable  journalists 
have  passed  before  me.  In  my  own  way  I  have  studied 
them  all,  and  I  believe  I  can  detect  the  real  journalist 
almost  as  well  as  Mr.  Williams  can." 

"A  good  deal  better,  I  should  think,"  said  the  acting 
editor,  "considering  the  people  I  have  trusted  and  the  mis- 
takes I  have  sometimes  made." 

"At  any  rate,  I  can  say,  with  my  whole  heart,  that  Bill 
— I  mean  INIr.  Rolston — though  he  is  only  twenty-one  and 
has  never  had  a  chance  in  his  life  yet,  has  the  makings  in 
him  of  the  most  successful  journalist  of  the  day.  He  will 
rise  to  the  very  top  of  the  tree.  But  as  we  all  know,  though 
great  merit  will  come  to  the  surface  in  time,  chance  is  a 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  45 

great  element  in  retarding  or  accelerating  the  process.  I 
think  that  Mr.  Rolston's  chance  has  come  now." 

"You  mean?"  I  asked. 

"That  this  boy,  utterly  unknown,  with  hardly  a  left 
foot  in  Fleet  Street  as  yet,  has  had  the  acumen  to  see, 
right  to  his  hand,  one  of  the  greatest  journalistic  sensations 
of  modern  times.  I  refer  to  the  three  towers  on  Richmond 
Hill.  We  have  been  for  evening  strolls  together  and  the 
boy  has  poured  out  his  whole  heart  to  me — as  he  might 
to  a  mother  or  any  older  woman" — and  here  poor  Julia 
blushed  again,  and  I  thought  I  saw  her  lips  quiver  for  a 
moment. 

"The  day  before  yesterday  he  said  to  me:  'Miss  Dews- 
bury,  of  course  you  don't  understand  anything  about  jour- 
nalism, but  I'm  on  the  track  of  the  very  biggest  thing  you 
could  possibly  imagine,  I  have  been  lying  low  and  saying 
nothing.  I'm  hot  on  the  scent.'  He  hinted  at  what  it  was, 
without  giving  me  very  many  details,  though  these  were 
quite  sufficient  to  show  me  that  he  was  making  no  idle 
boast.  Then  he  said:  'But  what  use  is  it?  If  I  went  with 
what  I've  got  already  to  any  of  the  papers,  I  might  or 
might  not  get  to  see  some  unimaginative  news-editor  who'd 
squash  me  into  a  cocked  hat  in  five  minutes.  That's  the 
worst  of  being  absolutely  unknown  and  without  any  pull. 
If  only  I  could  get  to  see  a  real  editor  of  one  of  the  big 
papers,  a  man  who  would  give  me  a  patient  hearing,  a  man 
with  imagination,  I  would  engage  to  convince  him  in  ten 
minutes  and  my  fortune  would  be  made.' " 


46  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

She  stopped,  leant  back  in  her  chair  and  looked  at  me 
inquiringly. 

''Good  heavens!"  I  cried.  "Have  him  up  at  once.  I 
am  quite  certain  that  you  could  never  have  been  deceived, 
Miss  Dewsbury.  You  have  not  been  with  me  for  four 
years  without  my  knowing  how  valuable  your  intuition  is. 
Send  him  to  me  at  once." 

Miss  Dewsbury  gave  a  dry,  gratified  chuckle. 

"I  may  have  stretched  things  a  little  far  in  having  too 
much  confidence  in  my  position  here,"  she  said,  "but  I  was 
determined  to  gamble  on  it,  and  I've  won.  This  morning, 
before  I  left  for  the  office,  I  gave  Mrs.  O'Hagan  a  little 
note  for  Bill — he  has  an  unfortunate  habit  of  lying  in  bed 
in  the  morning.  The  note  told  him  that  by  an  odd  coinci- 
dence, I  thought  I  might  put  him  in  the  way  of  writing  an 
article  for  the  Evening  Special  and  that  he  was  to  be  in  the 
cafe  at  the  corner  by  three  o'clock,  precisely." 

She  looked  at  her  wrist-watch. 

"It's  five  minutes  to  now.    I  will  send  for  him  at  once." 

"Rolston,  did  you  say  the  name  was,  Miss  Dewsbury?" 
said  Williams. 

"Yes, — Rolston.  But  the  messenger  can't  mistake  him. 
He's  about  five  feet  two  high,  very  slim,  with  an  innocent, 
baby  face,  and  very  dark  red  hair.  Oh,  and  his  ears  stick 
out  at  the  sides  of  his  head  almost  at  right  angles.  Please 
say  nothing  about  my  part  in  the  matter,  as  yet  at  any 
rate,"  Miss  Dewsbury  asked  as  she  went  away,  and  some 
minutes  afterwards  a  page  boy  ushered  in  one  of  the  most 
curious  little  figures  I  have  ever  seen. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  47 

Mr,  Rolston  was  short,  slim  and  well  proportioned.  He 
looked  active  as  a  monkey  and  tough  as  whipcord.  He  was 
rather  shabbily  dressed  in  an  old  blue  suit.  His  face  was 
childish  only  in  contour  and  complexion,  and  for  the  rest 
he  could  have  sat  as  a  model  for  Puck  to  any  painter. 
There  was  something  impish  and  merry  in  his  rather  slant- 
ing eyes,  and  his  button  of  a  mouth  was  capable  of  some 
very  surprising  contortions.  His  round-shaped  ears,  like 
the  ears  of  a  mouse,  stood  out  on  each  side  of  his  head  and 
completed  the  elfish,  sprite-like  impression. 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Rolston,"  I  said,  pointing  to  a  chair  on 
the  other  side  of  the  table. 

The  little  man  bowed  very  low  and  slid  into  the  chair. 
I  had  an  odd  impression  that  he  would  shortly  produce 
a  nut  and  begin  to  crack  it  with  his  teeth.  I  could  see  that 
he  was  in  a  whirl  of  amazement  and  at  the  same  time  hor- 
ribly nervous,  and  I  tried  to  put  him  at  his  ease. 

"I  understand,"  I  said,  "that  you  are  a  journalist,  Mr. 
Rolston." 

"Yes,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  replied,  in  a  cultivated  voice, 
though  with  a  curious  guttural  note  in  it,  and  I  marked 
that  he  knew  my  name. 

"I  also  understand — never  mind  how — that  for  some  time 
past  you  have  been  wishing  to  see  the  editor  of  a  large 
London  daily,  to  penetrate  right  to  the  fountain  head,  so 
to  speak.  Well,  here  you  are,  I  am  the  editor  of  the  Eve- 
ning Special.    What  have  you  to  propose  to  me?" 

I  passed  a  box  of  cigarettes  over  the  table  towards  him, 
but  he  shook  his  head. 


48  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"It's  about  the  three  great  towers  now  approaching  com- 
pletion at  Richmond." 

"You  have  some  special  information?" 

"Some  very  startling  information,  indeed,  Sir  Thomas. 
An  idea  came  to  me  some  months  ago.  I  thought  it  worth 
while  testing,  and  it's  proved  trumps." 

"If  you  have  anything  in  the  nature  of  a  scoop,  Mr. 
Rolston,  I  need  hardly  say  that  it  will  be  very  well  worth 
your  while.  If,  when  I  have  heard  what  you  have  to  say, 
I  cannot  use  your  information,  I  will  give  you  my  per- 
sonal word  that  all  you  tell  me  shall  be  kept  an  entire 
secret." 

"That's  good  enough  for  any  one,"  he  answered  with  a 
sudden  grin.  "Well,  sir,  these  towers  will  eventually  lapse 
to  the  British  Government  as  a  gift  from  the  private  indi- 
vidual who  has  erected  them,  but  they  will  remain  his 
property  and  be  used  for  his  own  purposes  until  his  death. 
And  these  purposes  are  not  wireless  telegraphy,  or  even 
scientific  in  any  shape  or  form.  Indeed,  wireless  telegraphy 
is  expressly  forbidden." 

Well,  at  that  I  sat  upright  in  my  chair.  Here  was  news 
indeed — if  it  were  true. 

"That's  big  stuff,"  I  replied  at  once,  "if  you  can  sub- 
stantiate it." 

"I  think  you  will  believe  me  when  I  have  finished,"  he 
replied  quietly.  "I  have  risked  my  life  more  than  once 
to  get  at  the  facts.  My  father,  Sir  Thomas,  was  a  mission- 
ary in  China.    I  was  brought  up  to  speak  the  Chinese  Ian- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  49 

guage  as  well  as  English.  I  am  one  of  the  very  few  Euro- 
peans who  do  so  fluently.  Moreover,  I  kept  it  up  till  I  was 
sixteen  and  came  to  England,  and  I  have  never  forgotten  it. 
You  have  heard,  I  suppose,  that  there's  a  gang  of  Chinese 
coolies  at  work  on  the  towers,  and  some  of  the  Trade  Unions 
have  been  making  themselves  nasty  about  it,  and  the 
American  labor?" 

"Yes,  there  was  some  agitation." 

"In  addition  to  these  coolies,  there  are  many  Chinese 
officials  of  a  much  higher  class,  people  who  will  remain 
when  the  towers  are  finished,  as  they  will  be  in  an  incred- 
ibly short  space  of  time,  for  the  work  is  being  carried  on 
both  by  day  and  night.  Speed,  speed,  speed!  is  the  order, 
and  nothing  in  the  world  is  allowed  to  stand  in  the  way 
of  it." 

"You  interest  me  very  much.    Please  continue." 

"Speaking  Chinese  as  I  do,  being  perfectly  familiar  with 
Chinese  dress  and  customs,  it  has  not  been  difficult  for  me 
to  disguise  myself — blacken  my  hair,  assume  a  yellow  com- 
plexion and  so  forth. 

"By  this  means  I  have  penetrated  to  the  very  heart  of 
the  workings  at  night,  and,"  he  blushed  faintly,  "I  have 
listened  to  conversations  of  an  extraordinary  character,  lying 
on  the  roof  of  a  certain  office  building  for  hours.  Details 
you  shall  have,  and  in  plenty,  but  here  is  the  sum  of  my 
discoveries.  There  is  no  syndicate.  There  never  was.  The 
work,  upon  which  millions  have  been  spent,  has  been,  from 
the  very  first,  designed  and  originated  by  one  individual, 


50  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

with  the  specialized  help  of  the  most  famous  engineers  of 
America." 

"And  his  motive?"  I  asked,  and  I  don't  mind  saying  that 
I  was  almost  trembling  with  excitement. 

"The  dream  of  a  genius,  or  the  whim  of  a  madman," 
Rolston  answered  in  a  grave  voice.  "The  world  will  call  it 
one  or  the  other  without  a  doubt.  At  any  rate  it's  the 
product  of  a  colossal  imagination.  For  myself,  I  am  dead 
certain  that  there's  some  deeper  and  stranger  motive  be- 
neath it  all,  but  that  can  rest  for  the  present.  Sir  Thomas, 
between  those  three  great  towers,  two  thousand  feet  up  in 
the  air,  will  very  shortly  come  into  being  a  fantastic  pleas- 
ure city  like  a  dream  of  the  Arabian  Nights!  It  will  be 
unique  in  the  history  of  the  world,  and  already  the  prepa- 
rations are  so  far  advanced  that  it  will  be  completed  with 
extraordinary  rapidity." 

"A  pleasure  city!"  I  gasped.  "A  Pleasure  City  in  the 
Clouds!" 

"On  two  stages  right  up  at  the  very  summit,  suspended 
by  a  system  of  cantilevers  of  the  most  intricate  modern  con- 
struction and  of  toughened  steel.  I  understand  that  a  tri- 
angle measuring  in  all  four  acres  will  support  a  marvelous 
series  of  palaces,  a  Lhassa  of  the  air!" 

"Why  Lhassa,  Mr.  Rolston?" 

"Because,"  he  replied,  "it's  to  be  a  Forbidden  City,  which 
no  one  will  be  allowed  to  penetrate  or  see.  It  is  a  mar- 
velous conception  only  possible  to  enormous  wealth  and  the 
vision  of  a  superman." 

I  left  my  chair  and  began  pacing  up  and  down  the  room 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  51 

as  the  freakish  grandeur  of  the  conception  burst  fully  upon 
me.  Towering  over  London,  dwarfing  Saint  Paul's  to  a 
child's  toy,  a  City  in  the  Clouds! 

I  stopped  suddenly,  wheeled  round  and  shouted:  "But 
who,  Mr.  Rolston,  is  the  madman,  genius  or  superman  who 
has  imagined  this  and  actually  carried  it  out  in  sober 
twentieth-century  England?" 

"That's  the  greatest  secret  of  all,"  he  said,  looking  round 
the  room  as  if  frightened. 

Then  he  slid  from  his  chair  and  was  at  my  side  in  a 
moment. 

"It's  a  Mr.  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse  from  Brazil,"  he 
whispered. 


CHAPTER   THREE 

Rolston's  revelation,  utterly  unexpected,  came  to  me  with 
the  suddenness  of  a  blow  over  the  heart.  For  a  few  sec- 
onds I  was  incapable  of  consecutive  thought,  though  I  don't 
think  my  face  showed  anything  of  it. 

The  lad  was  watching  me  anxiously  and  I  had  to  do 
something  with  him  at  once.  Fortunately,  I  thought  of 
the  obvious  thing. 

"Leave  me  now,  Mr,  Rolston,"  I  said.  "Go  to  the  room 
down  the  passage  marked  'Mr.  Williams'  on  the  door,  and 
ask  him  to  put  you  into  a  room  by  yourself.  Then  please, 
as  quickly  as  possible,  write  me  out  a  newspaper  'story' 
setting  out  fully  all  the  facts  you  have  told  me.  Remember 
that  you've  got  to  interest  the  public  in  the  very  first  para- 
graph in  what  is  undoubtedly  a  most  sensational  piece  of 
news." 

"How  many  words,  sir?"  he  asked  me — I  liked  that,  it 
was  professional. 

"A  thousand.  And  when  you've  done  that  bring  it 
straight  in  to  me." 

He  was  out  of  the  room  in  a  minute  and  I  sat  down  to 
think. 

In  the  first  place  I  didn't  doubt  his  story  for  a  moment, 
there  was  something  transparently  honest  about  the  boy, 
and,  unless  I  was  very  much  mistaken,  there  was  great 
ability  in  him  also.    When  there  was  time  for  it  I  expected 

52 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  53 

I  should  hear  a  breathless  story  of  his  adventures  in  the 
search  of  this  stuff.  He  had  hinted  that  his  life  had  been 
in  danger.  ...  I  began  to  think — ^hard.  Assuming  that 
was  true,  that  Morse  had  been  seized  with  this  extraor- 
dinary whim,  how  did  I  stand  in  the  matter?  At  a  first 
view  it  appeared  that  I  was  rather  badly  snookered.  Morse, 
always  assuming  young  Rolston  was  correct,  had  spent  a 
huge  fortune  in  keeping  his  secret.  Moreover,  the  Govern- 
ment was  in  it  with  him.  It  would  hardly  be  the  way  to 
recommend  myself  to  Juanita's  father — whose  good  opinion 
I  desired  to  gain  more  than  that  of  any  other  person  in 
the  world,  save  one — by  giving  his  cherished  secret  to  the 
world  in  order  to  increase  the  prestige  and  circulation  of 
the  Evening  Special. 

If  I  did  publish  it,  it  was  odds  on  that  I  never  saw 
Juanita  again.  One  thing  occurred  to  me  with  relief — it 
wasn't  a  case  in  which  I  had  to  publish,  in  the  public  inter- 
est. By  suppressing  news  I  was  not  failing  my  duty  as  an 
editor,  only  losing  a  big  scoop,  though  that  was  hard  enough. 
What  was  to  be  done?  As  I  asked  myself  that  question 
I  confess  that  for  a  brief  moment — thank  Heaven  it  did  not 
last  long — it  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  now  in  a  position 
to  put  considerable  pressure  upon  the  millionaire.  I  could 
hold  out  inducements  .  .  . 

Fortunately,  I  crushed  all  such  ugly  thoughts  without 
much  effort,  and  then  the  real  solution  came.  When  I 
had  questioned  Rolston  a  little  more  and  was  bedrock 
certain  that  he  was  right,  I  would  see  Morse  at  once  and 
tell  him  all  I  had  learnt  without  reserve.    I  would  present 


54  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

the  thing  to  him  as  one  in  which  I  claimed  no  personal  inter- 
est, and  my  attitude  would  be  that  I  felt  he  ought  to  be 
warned.  I  would  engage  to  publish  nothing  without  his 
wish,  but  he  must  look  to  it — if  he  wished  to  preserve  his 
secret — that  other  people  were  not  upon  the  same  track. 
That  could  do  me  no  harm  whatever.  It  was  the  straight 
thing  to  do,  and  at  the  same  time  it  would  certainly  help 
me  with  him.  I  thought,  and  think  still,  that  this  was  a 
fair  advantage  to  take.  It  is  only  a  fool  who  throws  away 
a  legitimate  weapon  in  love  or  war. 

I  rang  up  the  Ritz  Hotel  and  asked  for  Mr.  Morse. 
There  was  some  little  delay  at  the  Hotel  Bureau,  and  then 
I  was  switched  on  to  the  telephone  of  the  private  apart- 
ments. 

"Who's  that?"  asked  a  cold,  characterless  voice. 

"Sir  Thomas  Kirby  of  the  Evening  Special  speaking. 
Who  are  you?" 

"Secretary  to  Mr.  Morse" — now  the  voice  was  a  little 
warmer. 

"Is  Mr.  Morse  at  home?" 

"I  can  see  that  he  gets  a  message  very  shortly,  Sir 
Thomas,  if  the  matter  is  of  importance." 

"It  is  of  very  considerable  importance  or  I  shouldn't 
have  troubled  to  ring  Mr.  Morse  up,  especially  as  I  shall 
be  meeting  him  in  a  day  or  two  at  a  social  engagement." 

"Wait  a  moment,  please." 

I  knew  by  this  that  I  had  struck  lucky  and  that  Morse 
was  in  the  hotel,  and  within  a  minute  I  heard  his  calm, 
resonant  voice  in  my  ear. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  55 

"Good  afternoon,  Kirby.  My  secretary  says  you  wanted 
to  speak  to  me." 

"Thank  you,  I  am  most  anxious  to  have  a  conversation." 

"Well,  shall  we  hold  the  wire?" 

"I  daren't  discuss  my  business  over  the  wire,  Mr.  Morse." 

There  was  a  short  silence  and  then: 

'Tlease  forgive  me,  but  you  know  how  busy  I  am. 
Could  you  give  me  the  least  indication  of  what  you  wish  to 
talk  to  me  about?" 

I  had  an  inspiration. 

"Towers,"  I  said  in  a  low  voice. 

A  quiet  "Ah!"  came  to  me  over  the  wire,  and  then: 

"I  think  I  understand.  Sir  Thomas,  you  wish — ?" 

"To  tell  you  something  that  I  feel  sure  you  ought  to  know, 
in  your  own  interests." 

"Pass,  Friend!"  was  the  reply,  followed  by  a  little 
chuckle  in  which  I  thought — I  might  have  been  mistaken — 
I  detected  a  note  of  relief. 

"When  shall  we  meet?"  I  asked. 

"Look  here,  Kirby,"  was  the  reply,  "can  you  come  here 
at  eleven  to-night?  I'll  give  orders  that  you  are  to  be 
taken  up  to  my  rooms  at  once.  I  can't  guarantee  that  I 
shall  be  in  at  the  moment.  I  also  have  something  of  con- 
siderable importance  on  hand,  but  if  you  will  wait — I'm 
afraid  I'm  asking  a  great  deal — I'll  be  certain  to  be  with 
you  sooner  or  later.  My  daughter  may  be  at  home  and, 
if  she  is,  no  doubt  she'll  give  you  a  cup  of  coffee  or  some- 
thing while  you  wait.    Do  you  think  you  can  manage  this?" 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  I  answered,  trying  to  control  my 


56  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

voice,  and  I  hardly  heard  the  quiet  "Good-by"  that  con- 
cluded our  conversation. 

Well,  I  had  done  better  for  myself  than  I  had  hoped, 
and,  so  vain  are  all  of  us,  I  felt  a  kind  of  satisfaction  in 
having  ''played  the  game"  and  at  the  same  time  won  the 
trick.  I  did  not  reflect  till  afterwards  that  if  Morse  had 
been  some  one  else  and  not  the  father  of  Juanita,  I  should 
not  have  hesitated  for  a  moment  to  fill  the  Special  with 
scare  headlines. 

I  sat  down  again  in  my  chair,  ordered  a  cup  of  tea,  drank 
it  with  splendid  visions  of  a  tete-h-tete  with  Juanita  that 
very  night,  and  was  leaning  back  in  my  chair  lost  in  a 
rosy  dream  when  the  door  opened  and  the  odd  little  man 
with  the  red  hair  appeared  at  my  side,  holding  two  or  three 
sheets  of  typewritten  copy. 

"The  story,  sir,"  he  said. 

I  took  it  from  him  mechanically,  it  would  never  be  pub- 
lished now,  in  all  probability,  but  it  would  at  least  serve 
to  show  Morse  how  much  I  knew.    I  began  to  read. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  paragraph  I  knew  that  the  stuff 
was  going  to  be  all  right.  At  the  end  of  the  second  and 
third  I  sat  up  in  my  chair  and  abandoned  my  easy  attitude. 
When  I  had  read  the  whole  of  the  thousand  words  I  knew 
that  I  had  discovered  one  of  the  best  journalistic  brains  of 
the  day!  The  boy  could  not  only  ferret  out  news,  but  he 
could  write!  Every  word  fell  with  the  right  ring  and 
chimed.  He  was  terse,  but  vivid  as  an  Alpine  sunset.  He 
made  one  powerful  word  do  the  work  of  ten.  He  suggested 
atmosphere  by  a  semicolon,  and  there  were  fewer  adjec- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  57 

tives  in  his  stuff  than  one  would  have  believed  possible. 
There  were  not  four  other  men  in  Fleet  Street  who  could 
have  done  as  well.  And  beyond  this,  beyond  my  pleasure 
at  the  discovery  of  a  genius,  the  article  had  a  peculiar  effect 
upon  me.  I  felt  that  somehow  or  other  the  matter  was 
not  going  to  die  with  my  interview  to-night  at  the  Ritz 
Hotel.  The  room  in  which  I  sat  widened.  There  was  a 
glimpse  of  far  horizons.  .  .  . 

I  folded  the  copy  carefully  and  placed  it  in  my  breast 
pocket. 

"Mr.  Rolston,"  I  said,  "I  engage  you  from  this  moment 
as  a  member  of  my  regular  staff.  Your  salary  to  begin  with 
will  be  ten  pounds  a  week,  and  of  course  your  expenses 
that  you  may  incur  in  the  course  of  your  work.  Do  you 
accept  these  terms?" 

Poor  Bill  Rolston!  I  mustn't  give  away  the  man  who 
afterwards  became  my  most  faithful  friend  and  most  dar- 
ing companion  in  hours  of  frightful  peril,  and  a  series  of 
incredible  adventures.  Still,  if  he  did  burst  into  tears  that's 
nothing  against  him,  for  I  didn't  realize  till  sometime  aft- 
erwards that  he  was  half  starved  and  at  the  very  end  of  his 
tether. 

He  pulled  himself  together  in  a  moment  or  two,  took 
a  cup  of  tea  and  let  me  cross-question  him.  What  he  told 
me  in  the  next  half-hour  I  cannot  set  down  here.  It  will 
appear  in  its  proper  place,  but  it  is  enough  to  say  that  in 
the  whole  of  my  experience  I  never  listened  to  a  more  mys- 
terious and  more  enthralling  recital. 

I  think  that  from  that  moment  I  realized  that  my  fate 


58  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

was  to  be  in  some  way  linked  with  the  three  towers  on 
Richmond  Hill,  and  the  sense  of  excitement  which  had  been 
with  me  all  the  afternoon,  grew  till  it  was  almost  un- 
bearable. 

"Now,  first  of  all,"  I  said,  when  he  had  told  me  every- 
thing, "you  are  not  to  breathe  a  word  of  this  to  any  human 
soul  without  my  permission.  While  you  have  been  absent 
I  have  already  been  taking  steps,  the  nature  of  which  I 
shall  not  tell  you  at  present.  Meanwhile,  lock  up  everything 
in  your  heart." 

I  had  a  flash  of  foresight,  well  justified  in  the  event. 

"I  may  want  you  at  any  moment,"  I  told  him,  "and 
therefore,  with  your  permission,  I'm  going  to  put  you  up 
at  my  flat  in  Piccadilly,  where  you  will  be  well  looked  after 
and  have  everything  you  want.  I'll  telephone  through  to 
my  man,  Preston,  giving  him  full  instructions,  and  you  had 
better  take  a  taxi  and  get  there  at  once.  Preston  will  send 
a  messenger  to  your  lodgings  to  bring  up  any  clothes  and 
so  forth  you  may  require." 

He  blushed  rosy  red,  and  I  wondered  why,  for  his  story 
had  been  told  to  me  in  a  crisp,  man-of-the-world  manner 
that  made  him  seem  far  older  than  he  was. 

Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  put  his  hand  in  his 
trousers  pocket  and  pulled  out — one  penny. 

"All  I  have  in  the  world,"  he  said,  with  a  rueful  smile. 

I  scribbled  an  order  on  the  cashier  and  told  him  to  cash 
it  in  the  office  below,  and,  with  a  look  of  almost  doglike 
fidelity  and  gratitude,  the  little  fellow  moved  towards  the 
door. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  59 

Just  at  that  moment  it  opened  and  Julia  Dewsbury 
came  in. 

Rolston's  jaw  dropped  and  his  eyes  almost  started  out 
of  his  head  in  amazement,  and  I  saw  a  look  come  into  my 
secretary's  eyes  that  I  should  have  been  glad  to  inspire 
in  the  eyes  of  one  woman. 

''There,  there,"  I  said,  "be  off  with  you,  both  of  you. 
Miss  Dewsbury,  take  Mr.  Rolston,  now  a  permanent  mem- 
ber of  the  staff,  into  your  own  room  and  tell  him  some- 
thing about  the  ways  of  the  office." 

For  half  an  hour  I  walked  up  and  down  the  editorial 
sanctum  arranging  my  thoughts,  getting  everything  clear 
cut,  and  when  that  was  done  I  telephoned  to  Arthur  Win- 
stanley,  asking  him,  if  he  had  nothing  particular  on,  to 
dine  with  me. 

His  reply  was  that  he  would  be  delighted,  as  he  had 
nothing  to  do  till  eleven  o'clock,  but  that  I  must  dine  with 
him.  "I  have  discovered  a  delightful  little  restaurant,"  he 
said,  "which  isn't  fashionable  yet,  though  it  soon  will  be. 
Don't  dress;  and  meet  me  at  the  Club  at  half-past  seven." 

My  dinner  with  Arthur  can  be  related  very  shortly,  for, 
while  it  has  distinct  bearing  upon  the  story,  it  was  only 
remarkable  for  one  incident,  though,  Heaven  knows,  that 
was  important  enough. 

I  met  him  at  our  Club  in  Saint  James'  and  we  walked 
together  towards  Soho. 

"You  are  going  to  dine,"  said  Arthur,  "at  'L'Escargot 
d'Or' — The  Golden  Snail.     It's  a  new  departure  in  Soho 


6o  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

restaurants,  and  only  a  few  of  us  know  of  it  yet.  Soon 
all  the  world  will  be  going  there,  for  the  cooking  is  mag- 
nificent." 

"That's  always  the  way  with  these  Soho  restaurants,  they 
begin  wonderfully,  are  most  beautifully  select  in  their 
patrons,  and  then  the  rush  comes  and  everything  is  spoiled." 

"I  know,  the  same  will  happen  here  no  doubt,  though 
lower  Bohemia  will  never  penetrate  because  the  prices  are 
going  to  be  kept  up;  and  this  place  will  always  equal  one 
of  the  first-class  restaurants  in  town.    Well,  how  goes  it?" 

I  knew  what  he  meant  and  as  we  walked  I  told  him,  as 
in  duty  bound,  all  there  was  to  tell  of  the  progress  of  my 
suit. 

"Met  her  once,"  I  said,  "had  about  two  minutes'  talk. 
There's  just  a  chance,  I  am  not  certain,  that  I  may  meet 
her  to-night,  and  not  in  a  crowd — in  which  case  you  may 
be  sure  I  shall  make  the  very  most  of  my  opportunities. 
If  this  doesn't  come  off,  I  don't  see  any  other  chance  of 
really  getting  to  know  her  until  September,  at  Sir  Walter 
Stileman's,  and  I  have  to  thank  you  for  that  invitation, 
Arthur." 

He  sighed. 

"It's  a  difficult  house  to  get  into,"  he  said,  "unless  you 
are  one  of  the  pukka  shooting  set,  but  I  told  old  Sir 
Walter  that,  though  you  weren't  much  good  in  October 
and  that  pheasants  weren't  in  your  line,  you  were  Ai  at 
driven  'birds.' " 

"But  I  can't  hit  a  driven  partridge  to  save  my  life, 
unless  by  a  fluke!" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  6i 

"I  know,  Tom,  I  don't  say  that  you'll  be  liked  at  all, 
but  you  won  the  toss  and  by  our  bond  we're  bound  to  do 
all  we  can  to  give  you  your  opportunity.  I  need  hardly 
say  that  my  greatest  hope  in  life  is  that  she'll  have  noth- 
ing whatever  to  say  to  you.  And  now  let's  change  that 
subject — it's  confounded  thin  ice  however  you  look  at  it — 
and  enjoy  our  little  selves.  I  have  been  on  the  'phone 
with  Anatole,  and  we  are  going  to  dine  to-night,  my  son, 
really  dine!" 

The  Golden  Snail  in  a  Soho  side  street  presented  no 
great  front  to  the  world.  There  was  a  sign  over  a  door, 
a  dingy  passage  to  be  traversed,  imtil  one  came  to  another 
door,  opened  it  and  found  oneself  in  a  long,  lofty  room 
shaped  like  a  capital  L.  The  long  arm  was  the  one  at 
which  you  entered,  the  other  went  round  a  rectangle.  The 
place  was  very  simply  decorated  in  black  and  white. 
Tables  ran  along  each  side,  and  the  only  difference  between 
it  and  a  dozen  other  such  places  in  the  foreign  quarter 
of  London  was  that  the  seats  against  the  wall  were  not  of 
red  plush  but  of  dark  green  morocco  leather.  It  was  fairly 
full,  of  a  mixed  company,  but  long-haired  and  impecunious 
Bohemia  was  conspicuously  absent. 

A  table  had  been  reserved  for  us  at  the  other  end  oppo- 
site the  door,  so  that  sitting  there  we  could  see  in  both 
directions. 

We  started  with  little  tiny  oysters  from  Belon  in 
Brittany — I  don't  suppose  there  was  another  restaurant  in 
London  at  that  moment  that  was  serving  them.  The  soup 
was  asparagus  cream  soup  of  superlative  excellence,  and 


62  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

then  came  a  young  guinea-fowl  stuffed  with  mushrooms, 
which  was  perfection  itself, 

"How  on  earth  do  you  find  these  places,  Arthur?"  I 
asked. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  "ever  since  I  left  Oxford  I've  been 
going  about  London  and  Paris  gathering  information  of  all 
sorts.  I've  lived  among  the  queerest  set  of  people  in 
Europe.  My  father  thinks  I'm  a  waster,  but  he  doesn't 
know.  My  mother,  angel  that  she  is,  understands  me 
perfectly.  She  knows  that  I've  only  postponed  going  into 
politics  until  I  have  had  more  experience  than  the  ordinary 
young  man  in  my  position  gets.  I  absolutely  refused  to 
be  shoved  into  the  House  directly  I  had  come  down  with 
my  degree,  the  Union,  and  all  those  sort  of  blushing  honors 
thick  upon  me.  In  a  year  or  two  you  will  see,  Tom,  and 
meanwhile  here's  the  Moulin  a  Vent." 

Anatole  poured  out  that  delightful  but  little  known 
burgundy  for  us  himself,  and  it  was  a  wine  for  the  gods. 

"A  little  interval,"  said  Arthur,  "in  which  a  cigarette  is 
clearly  indicated,  and  then  we  are  to  have  some  slices  of 
bear  ham,  stewed  in  champagne,  which  I  rather  think  will 
please  you." 

We  sat  and  smoked,  looking  up  the  long  room,  when 
the  swing  doors  at  the  end  opened  and  a  man  and  a  girl 
entered.  They  came  down  towards  us,  obviously  approach- 
ing a  table  reserved  for  them  in  the  short  arm  of  the 
restaurant,  and  I  noticed  the  man  at  once. 

For  one  thing  he  was  in  full  evening  dress,  whereas  the 
only  other  diners  who  were  in  evening  kit  at  all  wore  dinner 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  63 

jackets  and  black  ties.  He  was  a  tall  man  of  about  fifty 
with  wavy,  gray  hair.  His  face  was  clean  shaved,  and 
a  little  full.  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a  handsomer 
man,  or  one  who  moved  with  a  grace  and  ease  which  were 
so  perfectly  unconscious.  The  girl  beside  him  was  a  pretty 
enough  young  creature  with  a  powdered  face  and  reddened 
lips— nothing  about  her  in  the  least  out  of  the  ordinary. 
When  he  came  opposite  our  table,  his  face  lighted  up  sud- 
denly. He  smiled  at  Arthur,  and  opened  his  mouth  as  if 
to  speak. 

Arthur  looked  him  straight  in  the  face  with  a  calm  and 
stony  stare — I  never  saw  a  more  cruel  or  explicit  cut. 

The  man  smiled  again  without  the  least  bravado  or  em- 
barrassment, gave  an  almost  imperceptible  bow  and  passed 
on  towards  his  table  without  any  one  but  ourselves  having 
noticed  what  occurred.  The  whole  affair  was  a  question 
of  some  five  or  six  seconds. 

He  sat  down  with  his  back  to  us. 

"Who  is  he?"  I  asked  of  Arthur. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then  he  gave  a  little 
shudder  of  disgust.  I  thought,  also,  that  I  saw  a  shade 
come  upon  his  face. 

"No  one  you  are  ever  likely  to  meet  in  life,  Tom,"  he 
replied,  "unless  you  go  to  see  him  tried  for  murder  at  the 
Old  Bailey  some  day.  He  is  a  fellow  called  Mark  Antony 
Midwinter." 

"A  most  distinguished  looking  man." 

"Yes,  and  I  should  say  he  stands  out  from  even  his  own 
associates  in  a  preeminence  of  evil.    Tom,"  he  went  on,  with 


64  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

unusual  gravity,  "deep  down  in  the  soul  of  every  man  there's 
some  foul  primal  thing,  some  troglodyte  that,  by  the  mercy 
of  God,  never  awakes  in  most  of  us.  But  when  it  does  in 
some,  and  dominates  them,  then  a  man  becomes  a  fiend, 
lost,  hopeless,  irremediable.  That  man  Midwinter  is  such 
an  one.  You  could  not  find  his  like  in  Europe.  He  walks 
among  his  fellows  with  a  panther  in  his  soul;  and  the  high 
imagination,  the  artistic  power  in  him  makes  him  doubly 
dangerous.  I  could  tell  you  details  of  his  career  which 
would  make  your  blood  run  cold — if  it  were  worth  while. 
It  isn't. 

"But  I  perceive  our  bear's  flesh  stewed  in  Sillery  is 
approaching.    Let's  forget  this  intrusion." 

Well,  we  dined  after  the  fashion  of  Sybaris,  went  to 
the  Club  for  an  hour  and  smoked,  and  then  Arthur  returned 
to  his  chambers  in  Jermyn  Street  to  dress.  I  went  back 
to  mine,  found  from  Preston  that  little  Mr.  Rolston  was 
safely  in  bed  and  fast  asleep,  changed  into  a  dinner  jacket 
and  walked  the  few  yards  to  the  Ritz  Hotel,  my  heart  beat- 
ing high  with  hope. 

I  was  shown  up  at  once  to  the  floor  inhabited  by  the 
millionaire,  and  knew,  therefore,  that  I  was  expected.  The 
man  who  conducted  me  knocked  at  a  door,  opened  it, 
and  I  entered.  I  found  myself  in  a  comfortable  room 
with  writing  tables  and  desks,  telephone  and  a  typewriter. 
A  young  man  of  two  or  three  and  twenty  was  seated  at  one 
of  the  tables  smoking  a  cigarette. 

He  jumped  up  at  once. 

"Oh,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Morse  has  not  yet 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  65 

returned,  and  I  think  it  quite  likely  he  may  be  some  little 
time.  But  the  Senora  Balmaceda  and  Miss  Morse  are  in 
the  drawing-room  and  perhaps  you  would  like  to — " 

''I  shall  be  delighted,"  I  said,  cutting  him  short,  but 
who  on  earth  was  Senora  Balmaceda?  The  chaperone,  I 
supposed,  confoimd  it! 

The  obliging  young  man  led  me  through  two  or  three 
very  gorgeously  furnished  rooms  and  at  last  into  a  large 
apartment  brilliantly  lit  from  the  roof,  and  with  flowers 
everywhere.    At  one  end  was  a  little  alcove. 

"I  have  brought  Sir  Thomas,  Senora,"  he  said,  looking 
about  the  room,  but  there  was  no  one  remotely  resembling 
a  Senora  there.  Nevertheless,  directly  he  spoke,  some  one 
stepped  out  of  the  conservatory  from  behind  a  tropical 
shrub  in  a  green  tub,  and  came  towards  us. 

It  was  Juanita,  and  she  was  alone.  The  secretary  with- 
drew and  I  advanced  to  meet  her. 

"How  do  you  do.  Sir  Thomas,"  she  said  in  her  beautiful, 
bell-like  voice.  "Father  said  you  might  be  coming  and  I'm 
afraid  he  won't  be  in  just  yet.  And  it's  so  tiresome,  poor 
Aimtie  has  gone  to  bed  with  a  bad  headache." 

"I'm  very  sorry,  Miss  Morse,"  I  answered  as  we  shook 
hands,  "I  must  do  what  I  can  to  take  her  place,"  and  then 
I  looked  at  her  perfectly  straight. 

Yes,  I  dared  to  look  into  those  marvelous  limpid  eyes 
and  I  know  she  saw  the  hunger  in  mine,  for  she  took  her 
hand  away  a  little  hurriedly. 

"What  a  charming  room!  Is  that  a  little  conservatory 
over  there?    It  must  look  out  over  the  Green  Park?" 


66  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"Yes,  it  does,"  she  replied  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"Then  do  let's  sit  there,  Miss  Morse." 

Was  I  acting  in  a  play  or  what  on  earth  gave  me  this 
sense  of  confidence  and  strength?  Heaven  only  knows, 
but  I  never  faltered  from  the  first  moment  that  I  entered 
the  room.    Oh,  the  gods  were  with  me  that  night! 

We  went  to  the  alcove  without  a  further  word,  and  she 
sat  down  upon  a  couch.  I  have  described  her  once,  at 
Lady  Brentford's  ball,  but  at  this  moment  I  am  not  going 
to  attempt  to  describe  her  at  all. 

For  half  a  minute  we  said  nothing  and  then  I  took  her 
hand  and  pressed  it  to  my  lips. 

"Juanita,"  I  said,  "there  are  mysterious  currents  and 
forces  in  this  world  stronger  than  we  are  ourselves.  This 
is  the  third  time  that  I've  seen  you,  but  no  power  on  earth 
can  prevent  me  from  telling  you — " 

She  was  looking  at  me  with  parted  lips  and  eyes  suffused 
with  an  angelic  tenderness  and  modesty.  My  voice  broke 
in  my  throat  with  unutterable  joy.  I  was  certain  that  she 
loved  me. 

And  then,  just  as  I  was  about  to  say  the  sealing  words — 
remember,  I  had  invoked  the  gods — there  was  the  sound 
of  a  door  opening  sharply. 

I  stiffened  and  rose  to  my  feet.  From  where  we  sat 
we  could  survey  the  whole,  rich  room.  Through  the  open 
door — I  must  say  there  were  several  doors  in  the  room — 
came  a  tall  man,  walking  backwards. 

He  was  in  full  evening  dress  with  a  camellia  in  his  button- 
hole. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  67 

He  stepped  back  lightly  with  cat-like  steps,  his  arms  a 
little  curved,  his  fingers  all  extended. 

I  saw  his  face.  It  was  convulsed  with  the  satanic  fury 
of  an  old  Japanese  mask.  Line  for  line,  it  was  just  like 
that,  and  it  was  also  the  face  of  the  bland  and  smiling  man 
I  had  seen  two  hours  before  at  the  restaurant  of  The 
Golden  Snail. 

I  felt  something  warm  and  trembling  at  my  side, 
Juanita  was  clinging  to  me  and  I  put  my  arm  around  her 
waist.  Through  the  open  door  there  now  came  another 
figure. 

A  quiet,  resonant  voice  cut  into  the  tense,  horrible  silence. 

"Quick,  Mark  Antony  Midwinter — that's  your  door,  quick 
— quick!" 

The  big  man  paused  for  an  instant  and  a  hissing  spitting 
noise  came  from  his  mouth. 

There  was  a  sharp  crack  and  a  great  mirror  on  the  wall 
shivered  in  pieces.  There  was  another,  and  then  the  big 
man  turned  and  literally  bounded  over  the  soft  carpet, 
flung  himself  through  the  door  and  disappeared. 

Gideon  Mendoza  Morse  advanced  into  the  drawing-room, 
smiling  to  himself  and  looking  down  at  a  little  steel-blue 
automatic  in  his  hand. 

Then  Juanita  and  I  came  out  of  the  alcove,  hand  in  hand, 
and  he  saw  us. 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

Gideon  Morse  still  had  the  little  steel-blue  automatic  pistol 
in  his  hand.  He  was  actually  smiling  and  humming  a  little 
tune  when  he  turned  and  saw  Juanita  and  myself  coming 
out  of  the  alcove. 

In  a  flash  his  hand  dropped  the  pistol  into  the  pocket 
of  his  dinner  jacket  and  his  face  changed. 

"Santa  Maria!"  he  said  in  Spanish,  and  then,  "Juanita, 
Sir  Thomas  Kirby!" 

"You  remember  you  gave  me  an  appointment  to-night, 
Mr.  Morse,"  I  stammered. 

"Of  course,  of  course,  then — " 

He  said  no  more,  for  with  a  little  gasp  Juanita  sank  into 
a  heap  upon  the  floor.  We  had  loosened  hands  directly 
the  millionaire  turned  towards  us  and  I  was  too  late  to 
catch  her. 

Morse  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant. 

"The  bell,"  he  said  curtly,  and  I  ran  to  the  side  of  the 
room  and  pressed  the  button  hard  and  long. 

Wow!  but  these  money  emperors  of  the  world  are  well 
served!  In  a  second,  so  it  seemed,  the  room  was  full  of 
people.  The  young  secretary,  a  couple  of  maids,  a  dark 
foreign-looking  man  in  a  morning  coat  and  a  black  tie 
whom  I  took  to  be  the  valet,  and  finally  a  gigantic  fellow 
in  tweeds  with  a  battered  face  as  big  as  a  ham  and  arms 
which  reached  almost  to  his  knees. 

§8 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  69 

The  maids  were  at  the  girl's  side  in  a  moment,  applying 
restoratives.  Morse  rose,  just  as  another  door  opened  and 
in  sailed  a  stout  elderly  lady  in  a  black  evening  dress  with 
a  mantilla  of  black  lace  over  her  abundant  and  ivory  white 
hair.  Morse  said  something  to  her  in  Spanish  and  I  wished 
I  had  been  Arthur  Winstanley  to  xmderstand  it.  Then  I  felt 
my  arm  taken  and  Morse  drew  me  away. 

"It  is  nothing  serious,"  he  said,  "just  a  little  shock,"  and 
as  he  said  it  he  made  a  slight  gesture  with  his  head. 

It  was  enough.  The  secretary,  the  valet,  and  the  huge, 
vulgar-looking  man  in  tweeds  faded  away  in  an  instant, 
though  not  before  I  had  seen  the  latter  spot  the  broken 
mirror,  and  a  ferocious  glint  come  into  his  eyes.  Nor  did 
he  look  surprised. 

Juanita  began  to  come  to  herself  and  she  was  tenderly 
carried  away  by  the  women.  Morse  accompanied  them  and 
spoke  in  a  rapid  whisper  to  the  distinguished  old  lady,  who, 
I  knew,  must  be  the  Senora  Balmaceda. 

The  two  of  lis  were  left  alone,  and  for  my  part  I  sank 
down  in  an  adjacent  chair  quite  exhausted  in  mind,  if  not 
in  body,  by  the  happenings  of  the  last  ten  minutes.  Up 
to  the  present — I  will  say  nothing  of  the  future — I  had 
never  lived  so  fast  or  so  much  in  such  a  short  space  of 
time;  and  you've  got  to  get  accustomed  to  that  sort  of 
thing  really  to  enjoy  it! 

"I'm  afraid  your  visit  has  been  somewhat  exciting,"  said 
my  host,  in  his  musical,  level  voice.  His  eyes  were  as  dark 
and  inscrutable  as  ever,  but  nevertheless,  I  saw  that  the 
man  was  badly  moved.    He  took  a  slim,  gold  cigarette  case 


70  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

from  his  waistcoat  pocket  and  his  hand  trembled.  More- 
over, under  the  tan  of  his  skin  he  was  as  white  as  a  ghost — 
there  was  a  curious  gray  effect. 

I  laughed. 

"I  confess  to  having  been  a  little  startled.  Your  secre- 
tary brought  me  in  here  and  I  was  talking  to  Miss  Morse 
in  the  conservatory  when — "    I  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

He  saved  me  the  trouble  of  going  on. 

''I  guess,"  he  said,  "you  and  I  had  better  have  a  little 
drink  now,"  and  he  went  to  the  wall. 

I  don't  pretend  to  know  how  the  service  was  managed — 
I  suppose  there  was  a  sergeant-major  somewhere  in  the 
background  who  drilled  the  host  of  personal  and  hotel 
attendances  who  ministered  to  the  wants  of  Gideon  Morse. 
At  any  rate,  this  time  no  one  entered  but  one  of  the  hotel 
footmen,  and  he  brought  the  usual  tray  of  cut-glass  bot- 
tles, etc. 

Morse  mixed  us  both  a  brandy  and  soda  and  I  noticed 
two  things.  First,  his  hand  was  steady  again;  secondly, 
the  brandy  was  not  decanted  but  came  out  of  a  bottle,  on 
which  was  the  fleur-de-lys  of  ancient,  royal  France,  blown 
into  the  glass. 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  when  he  saw  I  had  spot- 
ted that. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "there  are  only  three  dozen  bottles  left, 
even  in  the  Ritz.  They  were  found  in  a  bricked-up  cellar 
of  the  Tuileries,"  and  he  tossed  off  his  glass  with  relish. 

So  did  I — Cleopatra's  pearls  were  not  so  expensive. 

"Now  look  here,  Sir  Thomas,"  Morse  said,  sitting  down 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  71 

by  me  and  drawing  up  his  chair,  "you've  seen  something 
to-night  of  a  very  unfortunate  nature.  You've  seen  it  quite 
by  accident.  If  news  of  it  got  about,  if  it  were  even  whis- 
pered through  a  certain  section  of  London,  then  the  very 
gravest  harm  might  result,  not  only  to  me  but  to  many 
other  persons  also." 

"My  dear  sir,  I  have  seen  nothing.  I  have  heard  noth- 
ing. You  may  place  implicit  reliance  upon  that,"  and  I 
held  out  my  hand  to  him,  which  he  took  in  a  firm  grip, 

"Thank  you.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  replied  simply.  "It  was  a 
question,"  he  hesitated  for  the  fraction  of  a  second,  and 
I  knew  he  was  lying,  "it  was  a  question  of  impudent  black- 
mail. I  had  expected  something  of  the  sort  and  was  pre- 
pared.   You  saw  how  the  cowardly  hound  ran  away." 

"Quite  so,  Mr.  Morse.  Of  course  a  man  in  your  position 
must  be  subject  to  these  things  occasionally." 

"Ah,  you  see  that,"  he  said  briskly,  and  I  knew  he  was 
relieved.  "You  are  a  man  of  the  world,  and  you  see  that. 
Well,  I  am  thankful  for  your  promise  of  silence.  I  am  the 
more  annoyed,  though,  that  Juanita  should  have  been  pres- 
ent at  a  scene  which,  though  really  burlesque,  must  have 
seemed  to  her  one  of  violence." 

I  had  my  own  opinion  about  the  burlesque  nature  of  the 
incident,  but  I  made  haste  to  reassure  him. 

"Of  course,"  I  said,  "it  must  have  been  distressing  for 
any  lady,  but  it  was  the  suddenness  that  upset  her,  and 
I'm  sure  Miss  Morse's  nerves  are  far  too  good  for  it  to 
have  any  permanent  effect." 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  and  in  his  voice  there  was  a  caress, 


72  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"I  can  explain  it  all  to  Juanita,  and  the  memory  of  this 
evening  will  soon  go  from  her." 

Again  I  had  my  own  private  opinion,  which  I  forbore  to 
state.  Personally,  I  had  very  little  doubt  but  that  Juanita 
would  remember  this  evening  as  long  as  the  darling  lived! 
It  would  not  be  my  fault  if  she  didn't!  But  I  saw  that  this 
was  no  moment  to  tell  him  that  I  loved  her.  Perhaps,  if 
we  had  been  granted  five  minutes  more  in  the  conservatory 
and  I  had  said  all  I  meant,  and  heard  from  her  all  I  hoped, 
I  should  have  spoken  then.  As  it  was  I  could  not,  though 
in  my  own  mind  I  was  certain  she  cared  for  me. 

We  were  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  Morse 
seemed  to  recall  himself  from  private  thought. 

"I  had  nearly  forgotten! "  he  said.  "You  specially  wanted 
to  see  me  to-night,  Sir  Thomas,  and  you've  very  kindly 
waited  in  order  to  do  so." 

Then  I  remembered  the  errand  upon  which  I  had  come, 
and  pulled  myself  together  mentally.  I  liked  Morse.  He 
was  of  tremendous  importance  to  me,  and  yet  at  the  same 
time  it  behooved  me  to  be  wary.  Already  I  was  certain  that 
he  was  playing  a  game  with  me  in  the  matter  of  Mark 
Antony  Midwinter,  whose  name  I  kept  rigidly  to  myself. 
I  must  play  my  cards  carefully. 

Please  understand  me,  I  don't  for  a  moment  mean  that 
I  felt  he  was  my  enemy,  or  inimical  to  me  in  any  way.  Far 
from  it.  I  knew  that  he  liked  me  and  wouldn't  do  me  a 
bad  turn  if  he  could  help  it.  At  the  same  time  I  was  per- 
fectly sure  that  if  necessary  he  would  use  me  like  a  pawn 
in  a  mysterious  game  that  I  couldn't  fathom,  and  I  didn't 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  73 

mean  to  be  used  like  a  pawn  if  I  could  help  it.  My  hope 
and  ambition  was  to  serve  him,  but  I  wanted  a  little  reserve 
of  power  also,  for  reasons  I  need  not  indicate. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  telephoned  you." 

'•'And  you  mentioned  a  certain  word  which  rather  puzzled 
me." 

"I  did.    'Towers'  was  the  word." 

"I  believe  we  are  going  to  meet  at  The  Towers  at  Cerne 
in  Norfolk,"  said  Mr.  Morse.  "Sir  Walter  Stileman  told  me 
that  you  were  to  be  of  the  shooting  party  in  September." 

At  that  I  laughed  frankly,  really  he  was  a  little  under- 
estimating me.    He  grinned  and  understood  in  a  second. 

"Tell  me,  Sir  Thomas,  exactly  what  you  do  mean,"  he 
said. 

"Well,  you  know  I  am  a  newspaper  proprietor  and 
editor." 

"Of  the  best  written  and  most  alive  journal  in  London!" 

I  bowed,  and  produced  from  an  inside  pocket  Master 
Bill  Rolston's  astonishing  piece  of  copy. 

"An  unknown  journalist  who  was  introduced  to  me  to- 
day," I  said,  "brought  a  piece  of  news  which  would  be  of 
absorbing  interest  to  the  country  if  it  were  published  and 
if  it  were  true.    Perahps  you  would  like  to  read  this." 

I  handed  him  the  typewritten  copy  and  prepared  to  watch 
his  face  as  he  read  it,  but  he  was  too  clever  for  that.  He 
took  it  and  perused  it,  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  and 
I  began  to  realize  some  of  the  qualities  which  had  made 
this  man  one  of  the  powers  of  the  world. 

More  especially  so  when  he  came  and  sat  down  again, 


74  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

his  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  though  I  could  have  sworn 
fury  lurked  in  the  depths  of  his  black  eyes. 

"Well,  now,"  he  said,  "this  is  interesting,  very  interesting 
indeed.  I  am  going  to  be  quite  frank  with  you.  Sir  Thomas. 
There's  an  amount  of  truth  in  this  manuscript  that  would 
cause  me  colossal  worry  if  it  were  published  at  present. 
Another  thing  it  would  do  would  be  to  quite  upset  a  finan- 
cial operation  of  considerable  magnitude.  Personally,  I 
should  lose  at  the  very  least  a  couple  of  million  sterling, 
though  that  wouldn't  make  any  appreciable  difference  to 
my  fortune,  but  a  lot  of  other  people  would  be  ruined  and 
for  no  possible  benefit  to  any  one  in  the  world  except  your- 
self and  the  Evening  Special!' 

"Thank  you,"  I  said,  "that's  just  why  I  came.  Of 
course  nothing  shall  be  published,  though  I'm  quite  in  the 
dark  as  to  the  nature  of  the  whole  thing." 

"I  call  that  generous,  generous  beyond  belief.  Sir  Thomas, 
for  I  know  that  it  is  the  life  of  a  newspaper  to  get  hold  of 
exclusive  news.  I  would  offer  you  a  large  sum  not  to 
publish  this  story  did  I  not  know  that  you  would  indig- 
nantly refuse  it.  I  am  a  student  of  men,  my  young  friend, 
if  I  may  be  allowed  to  call  you  so,  and  even  if  you  were 
a  poor  man  instead  of  being  a  rich  one  as  ordinary  wealth 
goes,  I  should  never  make  such  a  proposition." 

I  glowed  inwardly  as  he  said  it.  It  was  a  downright 
compliment,  coming  from  him  under  the  circumstances,  at 
which  any  one  would  have  been  warmed  to  the  heart.  For 
here  was  a  great  man,  a  Napoleon  of  his  day,  one  who,  if 
he  chose,  could  upset  dynasties  and  plunge  nations  into 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  75 

war.  Yet,  as  I  knew  quite  well,  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse 
wasn't  a  member  of  the  great  financial  groups  who  control 
and  sway  politics.  In  a  sense  he  was  that  rare  thing,  a 
pastoral  millionaire.  He  owned  vast  tracts  of  country  popu- 
lated by  lowing  steers  for  the  food  of  the  world.  In  the 
remote  mountains  of  Brazil  brown  Indians  toiled  to  wrest 
precious  metals  and  jewels  from  the  earth  for  his  advan- 
tage. But  from  the  feverish  plotting  of  international 
finance  I  knew  him  to  stand  aloof. 

"I  very  much  appreciate  yoiu"  remarks,"  was  what  I 
told  him,  "and  you  may  rest  assured  that  nothing  shall 
transpire." 

"Thanks.  But  all  the  generosity  mustn't  be  on  your  side. 
You  shall  have  your  scoop,  Sir  Thomas,  if  you  will  wait 
a  little  while." 

"I  am  entirely  at  your  service." 

"Very  well  then,"  he  said,  and  his  manner  grew  extraor- 
dinarily cordial,  "let's  put  a  period  to  it!  I  hope  that, 
from  to-day,  I  and  my  daughter  are  going  to  see  a  great 
deal  of  you — a  great  deal  more  of  you  than  hitherto.  You 
know  how  we  are" — he  gave  a  little  annoyed  laugh — "run 
after  in  London;  and  what  a  success  Juanita  has  had 
over  here.  What  I  hope  to  do  is  to  form  a  little  inner 
circle  of  friends,  and  you  must  be  one  of  them — if  you 
will?" 

How  my  luck  held!  I  thought.  Here,  offered  freely  and 
with  open  hands,  was  the  only  thing  I  wanted.  I  am 
glad  to  think  that  I  found  a  moment  in  which  to  be  sorry 
for  Arthur  and  dear  old  Pat  Moore. 


76  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"It's  awfully  good  of  you,"  I  stammered. 

He  made  a  little  impatient  gesture  with  his  hand. 

"Please  don't  talk  nonsense,"  he  said.  "And  now  about 
the  towers  on  Richmond  Hill.  I  have  told  you  that  I  can- 
not explain  fully  until  September.  I  will  tell  you,  though, 
that  your  clever  little  journalist — what,  by  the  way,  did  you 
say  his  name  was?" 

"Rolston." 

"Of  course — ^has  ferreted  out  much  that  I  wished  to  con- 
ceal, but  he  isn't  entirely  upon  the  right  track.  I  am, 
Kirby,  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  thing,  and  I  have  spent 
goodness  knows  how  much  to  keep  that  quiet." 

He  lit  another  cigarette,  leant  back  in  his  chair  and 
laughed  like  a  boy. 

"I've  bribed,  and  bribed,  and  bribed,  I've  managed  to 
put  pressure,  actually  to  put  pressure  upon  the  British  Gov- 
ernment. I've  employed  an  untold  number  of  agents,  in 
short  I've  exercised  the  whole  of  my  intellect,  and  the  pres- 
sure of  almost  unlimited  capital  to  keep  my  name  out  of 
it.  And  now,  you  tell  me,  some  little  journalist  has  found 
out  one  thing  at  least  that  I  was  determined  to  conceal 
until  September  next!  The  plans  of  men  and  mice  gang 
oft  agley,  Kirby!  This  little  man  of  yours  must  be  a  sort 
of  genius.  I  hope  there  are  no  more  people  like  him  prowl- 
ing about  Richmond  Hill." 

I  was  quite  certain  that  there  was  not  another  Bill 
Rolston  anywhere,  and  I  amused  Morse  immensely  by  de- 
tailing the  circumstances  of   the  little,  red-haired  man's 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  77 

arrival  in  Fleet  Street.  I  never  realized  till  now  how 
human  and  genial  the  great  man  could  be,  for  he  even  ex- 
panded sufficiently  to  offer  to  toss  me  a  thousand  pounds 
to  nothing  for  the  services  of  Julia  Dewsbury ! 

I  saw  my  way  with  Juanita  becoming  smoother  and 
smoother  every  moment. 

It  was  growing  late,  nearly  one  o'clock,  when  Morse  in- 
sisted on  having  some  bisque  soup  brought  in. 

"I  think  we  both  want  something  really  sustaining,"  he 
said.  "Do  you  begin  and  I'll  just  run  up  and  see  my  sister- 
in-law,  Senora  Balmaceda,  and  find  out  if  Juanita  is  all 
right." 

He  left  the  room,  and,  happy  that  all  had  gone  so  well, 
I  sipped  the  incomparable  white  essence,  and  gave  myself 
up  to  dreams  of  the  future. 

I  was  to  see  her  often.  In  September,  at  Sir  Walter 
Stileman's,  Morse  was  to  take  me  into  his  fullest  con- 
fidence. That  could  only  mean  one  thing.  Within  a  little 
less  than  three  months  he  would  give  his  consent  to  my 
marriage  with  his  daughter.  Another  opportunity  like  this 
of  to-night,  and  Juanita  and  I  would  be  betrothed.  It  would 
be  delightful  to  keep  our  secret  until  the  shooting  began. 
I  would  follow  her  through  the  events  of  the  season,  watch 
her  mood,  hear  her  extolled  on  every  side,  knowing  all  the 
time  she  was  mine.  A  vision  came  to  me  of  Cowes  week, 
the  gardens  of  the  R.  Y.  Squadron,  Juanita  on  board  of  my 
own  yacht  "Moonlight." 

I  think  I  must  have  fallen  asleep  when  I  started  into 


78  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

consciousness  to  find  myself  staring  into  the  great  broken 
mirror  over  the  mantelpiece  and  to  find  that  Mr.  Morse 
had  returned  and  was  smiling  down  upon  me. 

"She's  all  right,  thank  heavens,"  he  said,  "and  has  been 
asleep  for  a  long  time.  And  now,  as  you  seem  sleepy  too, 
I'll  bid  you  good-night,  with  a  thousand  thanks  for  your 
consideration." 

It  was  nearly  two  o'clock  I  noticed  when  I  stepped  out 
into  the  cool  air  of  Piccadilly  and  walked  the  few  yards 
to  my  flat.  I  must  have  been  asleep  for  quite  a  long  time, 
and  dear  old  Morse  had  forborne  to  waken  me. 

I  peculiarly  remember  my  sense  of  well-being  and  hap- 
piness during  that  short  walk.  I  was  in  a  glow  of  satis- 
faction. Everything  had  turned  out  even  better  than  I 
had  expected.  What  did  the  scoop  for  the  paper  matter 
after  all?  Nothing,  in  comparison  with  the  more  or  less 
intimate  relations  in  which  I  now  stood  with  Gideon  Morse. 
I  was  to  see  Juanita  constantly.  She  was  almost  mine  al- 
ready, and  fortune  had  been  marvelously  on  my  side.  Of 
course  there  would  be  obstacles,  there  was  no  doubt  of 
that.  I  was  no  real  match  for  her.  But  the  obstacles  in 
the  future  were  as  nothing  to  those  that  had  been  already 
surmounted.  I  began  to  smile  with  conceit  at  the  diplo- 
matic way  in  which  I  had  dealt  with  the  great  financier; 
not  for  a  single  moment,  as  I  put  my  key  into  the  latch, 
did  I  dream  that  I  had  been  played  with  the  utmost  skill, 
tied  myself  irrevocably  to  silence,  and  that  horrible  trouble 
and  grim  peril  even  now  walked  unseen  by  my  side. 

When  I  got  into  the  smoking-room  I  found  things  just 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  79 

as  usual.  I  had  hardly  lit  a  last  cigarette  when  the  door 
opened  and  Preston  entered. 

"Good  heavens!"  I  said,  "I  never  told  you  to  wait  up  for 
me,  Preston.  There  was  not  the  slightest  need.  You 
ought  to  have  been  in  bed  hours  ago." 

"So  I  was,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said  looking  at  me  in  a  sur- 
prised sort  of  way,  and  I  noticed  for  the  first  time  that 
he  was  wearing  a  gray  flannel  dressing-gown  and  slippers. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Until  the  telephone  message  came,  Sir  Thomas." 

"What  telephone  message?" 

"Why,  yours,  Sir  Thomas." 

"I  never  telephoned.    When  do  you  mean?" 

"Not  very  long  ago,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "I  didn't  take 
particular  notice  of  the  time,  somewhere  between  one  o'clock 
and  now." 

I  was  on  the  alert  at  once,  though  I  could  not  have  par- 
ticularly said  why. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  that  it  was  I  who  'phoned?" 

"But,  yes,"  he  answered,  "it  was  your  voice,  Sir  Thomas. 
You  said  you  were  speaking  from  the  office." 

"From  the  Evening  Special?  I've  not  been  there  since 
late  afternoon.  And  when  have  I  ever  been  there  so  late? 
There's  never  more  than  one  person  there  all  night  long 
until  six  in  the  morning.  It's  not  a  morning  paper  as  you 
know." 

Preston  seemed  more  than  ever  bewildered  as  I  flung  this 
at  him, 

"All  I  can  say  is,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "that  I  heard 


8o  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

your    voice    distinctly    and    you    said    you    were    at    the 
office." 

"What  did  I  say  exactly?" 

"About  the  young  gentleman,  Sir  Thomas,  the  young 
gentleman  who  has  come  to  stay  for  a  time.  Your  instruc- 
tions were  that  he  should  be  wakened  and  told  to  come 
to  Fleet  Street  without  the  least  delay.  You  also  said  a 
taxicab  would  be  waiting  for  him,  by  the  time  he  was 
dressed,  to  drive  him  down." 

"And  he  went?" 

"Certainly,  Sir  Thomas,  he  was  in  his  clothes  quicker 
than  I  ever  see  a  gentleman  dress  before,  had  a  glass  of 
milk  and  a  biscuit,  and  the  cab  was  just  coming  as  I  went 
down  with  him  and  opened  the  front  door." 

I  rushed  out  of  the  room,  down  the  corridor  and  into 
that  which  had  been  placed  at  Rolston's  disposal.  It  was 
as  Preston  said,  the  lad  was  gone.  The  bed  was  tumbled 
as  he  had  left  it,  but  a  portmanteau  full  of  clothes,  some 
hair  brushes  and  a  tooth  brush  on  the  wash-stand  remained. 
Clearly  Rolston  believed  he  was  obeying  orders. 

Preston  had  followed  me  out  of  the  smoking-room  and 
stood  at  the  door,  a  picture  of  uneasy  wonder.  Let  me 
say  at  once  that  Preston  had  been  with  me  for  six  years, 
and  was  under-butler  at  my  father's  house  for  I  don't 
know  how  many  more.  He  is  the  most  faithful  and  de- 
voted creature  on  earth  and,  what  is  more,  as  sharp  as  a 
needle.    He,  at  any  rate,  had  no  hand  in  this  business. 

"There's  something  extraordinarily  queer  about  this,"  I 
said.    "I  assure  you  that  I  have  never  been  near  the  tele- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  8i 

phone  during  the  whole  night.  I  dined  with  Lord  Arthur 
in  Soho  and  the  rest  of  the  evening  I  have  been  spending 
at  the  Ritz  Hotel  with  Mr.  Gideon  Morse.  You've  been 
tricked,  Preston." 

"I'm  extremely  sorry,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  was  beginning 
when  I  cut  him  short. 

"It's  not  in  the  least  your  fault,  but  are  you  certain 
the  voice  was  mine?" 

He  frowned  with  the  effort  at  recollection. 

"Well,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "if  you  hadn't  told  me  what 
you  have,  I  believe  I  could  almost  have  sworn  to  it.  Of 
course,  voices  are  altered  on  the  telephone,  to  some  extent, 
but  it's  extraordinary  how  they  do,  in  the  main,  keep  their 
individual  character." 

He  spoke  the  truth.  I,  who  was  using  the  telephone  all 
day,  entirely  agreed  with  him. 

"WeU,  Preston,  it  was  a  skillful  imitation  and  not  my 
voice  at  all." 

"If  you  will  excuse  me,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  replied,  "your 
voice  is  a  very  distinctive  one.  It's  not  very  easily  mis- 
taken by  any  one  who  has  heard  your  voice  once  or  twice." 

"That  only  makes  the  thing  the  more  mysterious." 

"The  more  easy,  I  should  say.  Sir  Thomas.  It  must  be 
far  less  difficult  to  imitate  an  outstanding  voice  with  marked 
peculiarities  than  an  ordinary  one." 

He  was  right  there,  it  hadn't  occurred  to  me  before. 

"But  who  in  the  office  would  dare  to  imitate  my  voice?" 

"That,  of  course,  I  could  not  say.  Sir  Thomas,  but  we've 
only  the  word  of  the  unknown  person  who  rang  me  up  that 


82  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

he  was  speaking  from  the  office.  For  all  we  know  he  might 
have  been  in  the  next  flat." 

That  again  was  a  point  and  I  noted  it. 

"I'm  not  going  to  waste  any  time,"  I  said.  "I'll  go  down 
to  the  office  at  once  and  see  if  I  can  find  out  anything." 

He  helped  me  on  with  my  coat  and  within  five  minutes 
of  my  entering  I  was  again  in  Piccadilly. 

Already  the  long  ribbon  of  road  was  beginning  to  be 
faintly  tinged  with  gray.  The  dawn  was  not  yet,  but  night 
was  flitting  away  before  his  coming.  Save  for  an  occa- 
sional policeman  and  the  rumble  of  heavy  carts  piled  with 
sweet-smelling  vegetables  and  flowers  for  Covent  Garden, 
the  great  street  was  empty.  I  passed  the  Ritz  Hotel  with 
a  tender  thought  of  one  who  lay  sleeping  there,  and  hur- 
ried eastwards.  I  had  nearly  got  to  the  Circus  when  a 
taxi  swung  out  of  the  Haymarket  and  I  hailed  the  man. 
He  was  tired  and  sleepy,  had  been  waiting  for  hours  at  some 
club  or  other,  but  I  persuaded  him,  with  much  gold,  to 
take  me,  and  we  buzzed  away  toward  the  street  of  ink. 

Here  was  activity  enough.  The  later  editions  of  the 
morning  papers  were  being  vomited  out  of  holes  in  the 
earth  by  hundreds  of  thousands.  Windows  were  lighted  up 
everywhere  as  I  turned  down  a  side  street  leading  to  the 
river  and  came  to  my  own  offices. 

I  unlocked  the  door  with  my  pass  key  and  almost  imme- 
diately I  was  confronted  by  Johns,  the  night-watchman, 
who  flashed  his  torch  in  my  face  and  inquired  my  business. 
I  was  pleased  to  see  the  man  alert  and  at  his  post  and  asked 
who  was  in  the  building. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  83 

''Only  Mr.  Benson,  Sir  Thomas;  it's  his  week  for  night 
duty." 

I  went  up  and  very  considerably  surprised,  not  to  say 
alarmed,  young  Mr.  Benson,  who  had  the  photograph  of  a 
lady  propped  up  on  a  desk  before  him  and  was  obviously 
inditing  an  amorous  epistle. 

I  put  him  through  the  most  searching  possible  cross- 
examination,  until  I  was  quite  sure  that  he  had  never  tele- 
phoned to  my  ilat.  I  knew  him  for  a  truthful,  conscientious 
fellow,  without  a  glimpse  of  humor  or  the  slightest  histrionic 
talent.  Johns,  called  from  below,  was  equally  emphatic. 
Certainly  no  taxi  had  arrived  here  during  the  last  three 
hours,  nor  had  William  Rolston  come  near  the  office. 

I  returned  to  Piccadilly,  utterly  baffled  and  without  a 
single  ray  of  light  in  my  mind. 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourteenth  of  September  I  met 
Captain  Pat  Moore  and  Lord  Arthur  Winstanley  at  Liver- 
pool Street  station.  We  were  all  three  of  us  asked  to  Cerne 
as  guests  of  that  fine  old  sportsman,  Sir  Walter  Stileman. 
A  special  carriage  was  reserved  for  us  and  our  servants 
filled  it  with  luncheon  baskets  and  gun  cases. 

It  was  almost  exactly  three  months  since  my  eventful 
night  at  the  Ritz  with  Gideon  Morse,  and  the  disappear- 
ance of  little  William  Rolston. 

What  had  passed  since  that  time  I  can  set  out  fully 
in  a  very  few  words.  First  of  all  the  position  in  which  I 
stood  with  regard  to  Juanita.  It  was  somewhat  extraor- 
dinary, satisfactory,  had  yet  unsatisfactory,  utterly  tan- 
tali2dng.  Morse  had  kept  his  promise.  I  had  seen  a  great 
deal  of  his  daughter.  At  Henley,  at  Cowes — on  board  the 
millionaire's  wonderful  yacht  or  on  my  own,  in  the  sacred 
gardens  of  the  R.  Y.  S.,  where  we  met  and  m.et  again.  Yet 
these  meetings  were  always  in  public.  Juanita  was  sur- 
rovmded  by  men  wherever  she  went.  She  was  the  reigning 
beauty  of  her  year.  Her  minutest  doings  were  chronicled 
in  the  Society  papers  with  a  wealth  of  detail  that  was  as- 
tounding. I  used  to  read  the  stuff,  including  that  of  my 
own  Miss  Easey,  with  a  sort  of  impotent  rage.  Some  of' 
it  was  true,  a  lot  of  it  was  lies  and  surmise,  but  to  me  it 

84 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  85 

was  all  distasteful.  Juanita  lived  in  the  full  glare  of  the 
public  eye,  and  a  royal  princess  could  hardly  have  been 
more  unapproachable.  Of  course  I  used  stratagems  innu- 
merable, and  more  than  once  she  went  half-way  to  meet 
me,  but  the  long  desired  tete-a-tete  never  came  to  pass.  It 
was  not  only  because  of  the  troop  of  admirers  that  crowded 
round  her,  of  which  I  was  only  one,  but  there  was  an  ex- 
traordinary adroitness,  "a  hidden  hand"  at  work  somewhere, 
to  keep  us  apart.  I  was  quite  certain  of  this,  yet  I  could 
not  prove  it,  though  even  if  I  had  it  would  have  been  of 
little  use.  Old  Senora  Balmaceda,  who  overwhelmed  me 
with  kindness  and  attention,  was  simply  wonderful  in  her 
watch  over  Juanita. 

As  for  Gideon  Morse,  he  would  talk  to  me  by  the  hour — 
and  his  talk  was  well  worth  listening  to — but  somehow 
or  other  he  was  always  in  the  way  when  I  wanted  to  be 
alone  with  his  daughter.  Of  course  I  sometimes  thought 
I  was  exaggerating,  and  that  I  was  so  hard  hit  that  I  saw 
things  in  a  jaundiced  or  prejudiced  light.  Yet  certainly 
Juanita  was  often  alone  for  a  short  time  with  other  men 
than  I,  notably  with  the  young  and  good-looking  Duke 
of  Perth,  whom  I  hated  as  cordially  as  I  knew  how. 

Then,  in  August,  I  had  a  nasty  knock.  The  Morses  went 
off  to  Scotland  for  the  grouse  shooting  as  guests  of  the 
Duke,  and  I  wasn't  asked,  or  ever  in  the  way  of  being 
asked  if  it  comes  to  that,  to  join  the  "small  and  select 
house-party"  that  the  papers  were  so  full  of.  I  had  to 
content  myself  with  pictures  on  the  front  page  of  the 
Illustrated  Weeklies  depicting  Juanita  in  a  tweed  skirt  and 


86  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

a  tarn  o'  shanter,  side  by  side  with  Perth,  wearing  a  fatuous 
smile  and  a  gun.  I  had  one  crumb  of  consolation  only  and 
that  was,  when  saying  good-by  to  Juanita,  I  felt  something 
small  and  hard  in  the  palm  of  her  hand.  It  was  a  little 
tightly  folded  piece  of  paper  and  on  it  was  one  word, 
''Cerne." 

That  of  course  helped  a  great  deal.  It  was  obvious  what 
she  meant.  When  we  met  at  Sir  Walter  Stileman's,  then 
at  last  my  opportunity  would  come. 

And  now  about  the  little  journalist  and  his  extraordinary 
disappearance.  I  made  every  possible  inquiry,  engaging 
the  most  skilled  agents  and  sparing  no  money  in  the  quest, 
but  I  found  out  nothing — absolutely  nothing.  The  red- 
headed lad  with  the  prominent  ears  had  vanished  into  thin 
air,  had  flashed  into  my  life  for  a  moment  and  then  gone 
out  of  it  with  the  completeness  of  an  extinguished  candle. 
He  had  been,  he  was  no  more.  Poor  Miss  Dewsbury,  on 
whom  the  disappearance  had  a  marked  effect,  discussed 
the  matter  with  me  a  dozen  times.  We  broached  theory 
after  theory  only  to  reject  them,  and  at  last  we  ceased  to 
talk  about  the  matter  at  all.  I  remember  her  words  on 
the  last  time  we  talked  of  it.  They  were  prophetic,  though 
I  did  not  know  it  then. 

"All  I  can  say  is.  Sir  Thomas,  that  voices,  not  my  own, 
whisper  constantly  in  my  ear  that  the  shadow  of  the  three 
giant  towers  upon  Richmond  Hill  lies  across  your  path." 

Poor  thing,  she  was  almost  hysterical  in  those  times, 
and  I  paid  little  heed  to  her  words.  As  for  the  scoop, 
no  other  paper  had  even  hinted  at  Rolston's  revelation.    I 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  87 

had  faithfully  kept  my  word  to  Morse,  not  forgetting  that 
he  had  promised  to  explain  everything — in  September. 

As  the  train  swung  out  of  Liverpool  Street  and  Pat  and 
Arthur  were  ragging  each  other  as  to  who  should  have  the 
Times  first,  I  experienced  a  sense  of  mental  relief.  Only 
a  few  hours  now  and  the  great  question  of  my  life  would 
be  settled,  once  and  for  all.  No  more  doubts,  no  more 
uncertainties. 

During  the  last  three  months,  Arthur  and  Pat  had  left 
me  very  much  to  myself.  They  had  behaved  with  the  most 
perfect  tact  and  kindness,  Arthur,  as  I  have  said,  having 
obtained  for  me  the  invitation  to  Cerne.  Now,  after  we 
had  traveled  for  a  couple  of  hours  and  the  luncheon  baskets 
had  been  opened,  old  Pat  lit  a  cigar  and  looked  across  at 
me.  His  big,  brown  face  was  grave,  and  he  played  with 
his  mustache  as  if  in  some  embarrassment. 

He  and  Arthur  glanced  at  each  other,  and  I  understood 
what  was  in  their  minds. 

"Look  here,  you  fellows,"  I  said,  "about  the  sacred  Broth- 
erhood— what  is  it  in  Spanish?" 

"Santa  Hermandad,"  said  Arthur. 

"Well,  you've  kept  your  oath  splendidly.  I  cannot  thank 
you  enough.  I  have  had  the  running  all  to  myself — as 
far  as  you  two  are  concerned,  for  twelve  weeks." 

"Yes,  twelve  weeks,"  Pat  replied,  with  a  sigh.  "We've 
kept  out  of  the  way,  old  fellow,  and  I  tell  you  it's  been 
hard!" 

Arthur  nodded  in  corroboration,  and  somehow  or  other 
I  felt  myself  a  cur.    Since  boyhood  we  three  had  been  like 


88  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

brothers,  and  it  was  a  hard  fate  indeed  that  led  us  to 
center  all  our  hopes  upon  something  that  could  belong  to 
one  alone. 

Despite  what  must  have  been  their  burning  eagerness  to 
know  how  things  stood,  both  of  them  were  far  too  delicate- 
minded  and  well-bred  to  ask  a  question,  I  knew  it  was  up 
to  me  to  satisfy  them. 

"Without  going  into  details,"  I  said,  "I'll  tell  you  just 
how  it  is,  how  I  think  it  is,  for  I  may  be  quite  wrong,  and 
presuming  upon  what  doesn't  exist." 

I  thought  for  a  moment,  and  chose  my  words  carefully. 
It  was  extremely  difficult  to  say  what  I  had  to  say. 

"It  comes  to  about  this,"  I  got  out  at  last.  "I've  every 
reason  to  believe  that  she  likes  me.  There's  nothing  deci- 
sive, but  I've  been  given  some  hope.  I  very  nearly  put 
it  to  the  test  three  months  ago,  but  was  interrupted  and 
never  had  the  chance  again.  At  Cerne  I'm  going  to  try, 
finally.  By  hook  or  crook,  in  forty-eight  hours,  I'll  have 
some  news  for  you.  And  if  I  get  the  sack,  then  let  the  next 
man  go  in  and  win  if  he  can,  and  I'll  join  the  third  in 
doing  everything  that  lies  in  my  power  to  help  him." 

"I  am  next,"  said  Pat  Moore,  "not  that  I've  the  deuce 
of  a  chance.  But  I  think  you've  spoken  like  a  damn  good 
sort,  Tom,  and  we  thank  you.  Arthur  and  I  will  do  our 
best  to  keep  every  one  else  off  the  grass  while  you  go  in 
and  try  your  luck.  Faith!  I'll  make  love  to  the  duenna  with 
the  white  hair  meself  and  keep  her  out  of  the  way,  and 
Arthur  here  will  consult  with  Morse  upon  the  expediency  of 
investing  his  large  capital,  which  he  hasn't  got,  in  a  Brazil- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  89 

nut  farm.  Anyhow,  Perth,  who  has  been  the  safety  bet  with 
all  the  tipsters,  won't  be  there.  He's  such  a  rotten  shot 
that  Sir  Walter  wouldn't  dream  of  asking  him.  The  bag 
has  got  to  be  kept  up.  For  three  years  now,  only  Sandring- 
ham  has  beat  it  and  a  duffer  at  a  drive  would  send  the 
average  down  appallingly." 

"What  about  me?"  I  asked,  with  a  sinking  of  the  heart. 

"God  forgive  me,"  said  Arthur,  "I've  lied  about  you  to 
Sir  Walter  like  the  secretary  of  a  building  society  to  a 
maiden  lady  with  two  thousand  pounds.  He  was  aston- 
ished that  he  had  never  heard  of  your  shooting — of  course, 
he  knows  all  the  shots  of  the  day,  and  I  had  to  tell  him 
a  fairy  story  about  your  late  lamented  father  who  was  a 
Puritan  and  would  never  let  his  son  join  coimtry  house- 
parties  because  they  played  cards  after  dinner." 

I  smiled,  on  the  wrong  side  of  my  mouth.  My  dear 
old  governor  had  been  anything  but  a  Puritan:  I  feared 
the  scandal  which  would  inevitably  ensue  when  I  went  out 
for  the  first  big  drive. 

'That's  all  right,  Tom,"  said  Arthur,  "you'll  simply  have 
to  sprain  your  ankle,  or  I'll  give  you  a  good  hack  in  the 
shin  privately  if  you  like.  Sir  Walter  has  only  to  send  a 
wire  to  get  a  first-class  gun  down.  There  are  at  least  a 
dozen  men  I  know  who  would  almost  commit  parricide  for 
the  chance." 

After  that,  by  general  consent,  the  subject  of  the  league 
was  dropped.  We  all  knew  where  we  were,  and  for  the 
rest  of  the  journey  we  talked  of  ordinary  things. 

It  was  a  bright  afternoon  in  early  autumn  when  we 


90  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

stopped  at  the  little  local  station  and  got  into  a  waiting 
motor-car,  while  our  servants  collected  our  things  and 
followed  in  the  baggage  lorry.  For  myself,  I  felt  in  the 
highest  spirits  as  we  buzzed  along  the  three  miles  to  Cerne 
Hall.  There  was  a  pleasant  nip  in  the  air;  the  vast  land- 
scape was  yellow  gold,  as  acre  after  acre  of  stubble  stretched 
towards  the  horizon.  Gray  church  towers  embowered  in 
trees  broke  the  vast  monotony,  and  I  surrendered  myself 
to  a  happy  dream  of  Juanita,  while  Arthur  and  Pat  talked 
shooting  and  marked  covies  that  rose  on  either  side  as  we 
whirred  by. 

When  we  arrived  at  Cerne  Hall  it  was  not  yet  tea-time, 
and  everybody  was  out.  The  butler  showed  us  to  our 
rooms,  all  close  together  in  the  south  wing  of  the  fine  old 
house,  and  I  smoked  a  cigarette  while  Preston  was  un- 
packing. 

"Everybody  arrived  yet,  Preston?"  I  asked. 

"Not  yet.  Sir  Thomas,  so  I  understand.  I  and  Captain 
Moore's  man  and  his  lordship's  was  havin'  a  cherry  brandy 
in  the  housekeeper's  room  just  now,  and  the  bulk  of  the 
house-party  will  be  arriving  by  the  later  train,  between  tea 
and  dinner.  Sir  Thomas." 

"And  Mr.  Morse?" 

"Only  just  before  dinner.  Sir  Thomas;  he  always  travels 
in  a  special  train." 

I  saw  by  Preston's  face  that  he  considered  this  a  snob- 
bish and  ostentatious  thing  to  do,  and,  in  the  case  of  an 
ordinary  multi-millionaire,  I  should  certainly  have  agreed 
with  him.    But  I  recalled  facts  that  had  come  to  my  notice 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  91 

about  the  famous  Brazilian,  and  I  wondered.  There  was 
the  astounding  scene  at  the  Ritz,  for  instance,  and  more 
than  that.  I  had  not  been  following  up  Juanita  for  three 
months,  in  town,  at  Henley,  and  at  Cowes,  without  notic- 
ing that  Mr.  Gideon  Morse  seemed  to  have  an  unobtrusive 
but  quite  singular  entourage. 

More  than  once,  for  example,  I  had  caught  sight  of  a  cer- 
tain great  hulking  man  in  tweeds,  a  professional  Irish- 
American  bruiser,  if  ever  there  was  one. 

Tea  was  in  the  hall  of  the  great  house.  I  was  intro- 
duced to  Sir  Walter,  a  delightful  man,  with  a  hooked  nose, 
a  tiny  mustache,  the  remains  of  gray  hair,  and  a  charming 
smile.  Lady  Stileman  also  made  me  most  welcome.  Her 
hair  was  gray,  but  her  figure  was  slight  and  upright  as  a 
girl's,  and  many  girls  in  the  County  must  have  envied  her 
dainty  prettiness,  and  the  charm  of  her  lazy,  musical 
voice. 

Circumstances  paired  me  off  with  a  vivacious  young  lady 
whose  face  I  seemed  to  know,  whose  surname  I  could  not 
catch,  but  whom  every  one  called  'Toppy." 

"I  say,"  she  said,  after  her  third  cup  of  tea  and  fourth 
egg  sandwich,  "you're  the  Evening  Special,  aren't  you?" 

I  admitted  it. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  do  think  you  might  give  me  a  show 
now  and  then.  Considering  the  press  I  generally  get,  I've 
never  been  quite  able  to  understand  why  the  Special  leaves 
me  out  of  it." 

I  thought  she  must  be  an  actress — and  yet  she  hadn't 
quite  that  manner.    At  any  rate  I  said: 


92  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,  but  you  see  I'm  only  editor,  and  I've 
nothing  really  to  do  with  the  dramatic  criticism.  How- 
ever, please  say  the  word,  and  I'll  ginger  up  my  man  at 
once," 

"Dramatic  criticism!"  she  said,  her  eyes  wide  with  sur- 
prise. "Sir  Thomas,  can  it  really  be  that  you  don't  know 
who  I  am?" 

It  was  a  little  embarrassing. 

"Do  you  know,  I  know  your  face  awfully  well,"  I  said, 
"though  I'm  quite  sure  we've  never  met  before  or  I  should 
have  remembered,  and  when  Lady  Stileman  introduced  us 
just  now  all  I  caught  was  Poppy." 

She  sighed — I  should  put  her  between  nineteen  and 
twenty  in  age — "Well,  for  a  London  editor,  you  are  a  fossil, 
though  you  don't  look  more  than  about  six-and-twenty. 
Why,  Poppy  Bo5niton!" 

Then,  in  a  flash,  I  knew.  This  was  the  Hon.  Poppy 
Boynton,  Lord  Portesham's  daughter,  the  flying  girl,  the 
leading  lady  aviator,  who  had  looped  the  loop  over  Mont 
Blanc  and  done  all  sorts  of  mad,  extraordinary  things. 

"Oj  course,  I  know  you.  Miss  Boynton!  Only,  I  never 
expected  to  meet  you  here.  What  a  chance  for  an  editor! 
Do  tell  me  all  your  adventures." 

"Will  you  give  me  a  column  interview  on  the  front 
page  if  I  do?" 

"Of  course  I  will.    I'll  write  it  myself." 

"And  a  large  photograph?" 

"Half  the  back  page  if  you  like." 

"You're  a  dear,"  she  said  in  a  business-like  voice.    "On 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  93 

second  thoughts,  I'll  write  the  interview  myself  and  give 
it  you  before  we  leave  here.  And,  meanwhile,  I'll  tell  you 
an  extraordinary  flight  of  mine  only  yesterday." 

I  was  in  for  it  and  there  was  no  way  out.  Still,  she 
was  extremely  pretty  and  a  celebrity  in  her  way,  so  I  set- 
tled myself  to  listen. 

"What  did  you  do  yesterday  morning?"  I  asked,  "Did 
you  loop  the  loop  over  Saint  Paul's  or  something?" 

"Loop  the  loop!"  she  replied,  with  great  contempt. 
"That's  an  infantile  stunt  of  the  dark  ages.  No,  I  went 
for  my  usual  morning  fly  before  breakfast  and  saw  a  marvel, 
and  got  cursed  by  a  djinn  out  of  the  Arabian  Nights." 

This  sounded  fairly  promising  for  a  start,  but  as  she  went 
on  I  jerked  like  a  fish  in  a  basket. 

"You  know  the  great  wireless  towers  on  Richmond  Hill?" 

"Of  course.  The  highest  erection  in  the  world,  isn't  it, 
more  than  twice  the  height  of  the  Eiffel  Tower?  You  can 
see  the  things  from  all  parts  of  London." 

"On  a  clear  day,"  she  nodded,  "the  rest  of  the  time  the 
top  is  quite  hidden  by  clouds.  Now  it  struck  me  I'd  go 
and  have  a  look  at  them  close  to.  Our  place,  Norman 
Court,  is  only  about  fifteen  miles  farther  up  the  Thames. 
I  started  off  in  my  little  gnat-machine  and  rose  to  about 
fifteen  hundred  feet  at  once,  when  I  got  into  a  bank  of 
fleecy  wet  cloud,  fortunately  not  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  or  so  thick.  It  was  keeping  all  the  sun  from  London 
about  seven-thirty  yesterday  morning.  When  I  came  out 
above,  of  course  I  wasn't  sure  of  my  direction,  but  as  I 
turned  the  machine  a  point  or  so  I  saw,  standing  up  straight 


94  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

out  of  the  cloud  at  not  more  than  six  miles  away,  the  tops 
of  the  towers.    I  headed  straight  for  them." 

She  lit  a  cigarette  and  I  noticed  her  face  changed  a  little. 
There  was  an  introspective  look  in  the  eyes,  a  look  of 
memory. 

"As  I  drew  near,  Sir  Thomas,  I  saw  what  I  think  is  the 
most  marvelous  sight  I  have  ever  seen.  You  people  who 
crawl  about  on  earth  never  do  see  what  we  see.  I  have 
flown  over  Mont  Blanc  and  seen  the  dawn  upon  the  Mat- 
terhorn  and  Monte  Rosa  from  that  height,  and  I  thought 
that  was  the  most  heavenly  thing  ever  seen  by  mortal  eye. 
But  yesterday  morning  I  beat  that  impression — ^yes! — ^right 
on  the  outskirts  of  London  and  only  a  few  hours  ago! 
Down  from  below  nobody  can  really  see  much  of  the  towers. 
You  haven't  seen  much,  for  instance,  have  you?" 

"Only  that  they're  now  all  linked  together  at  the  top  by 
the  most  intricate  series  of  girders,  on  the  suspension  prin- 
ciple, I  suppose.  There  are  a  lot  of  sheds  and  things  on 
this  artificial  space,  or  at  least  it  looks  like  it." 

"Sheds  and  things!  Sir  Thomas,  I  thought  I  saw  the 
New  Jerusalem  floating  on  the  clouds!  The  morning  sun 
poured  down  upon  a  vast,  hanging  space  of  which  you  can 
have  no  conception,  and  rising  up  on  every  side  from  snowy- 
white  ramparts  were  towers  and  cupolas  with  gilded  roofs 
which  blazed  like  gold.  There  were  fantastic  halls  pierced 
with  Oriental  windows,  walls  which  glowed  like  jacinth 
and  amethyst,  and  parapets  of  pearl. 

"It  was  a  city,  a  City  in  the  Clouds,  a  place  of  enchant- 
ment floating  high,  high  up  above  the  smoke  and  the  din 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  95 

of  London— serene,  majestic,  and  utterly  lovely.  I  tell 
you"— here  her  voice  dropped— "the  vision  caught  at  my 
heart,  and  a  great  lump  came  into  my  throat.  I'm  pretty 
hard-bitten,  too!  As  I  went  past  one  side  of  the  immense 
triangle— which  must  occupy  several  acres— on  which  the 
city  is  built,  I  saw  an  inner  courtyard  with  what  seemed 
like  green  lawns.  I  could  swear  there  were  trees  planted 
there  and  that  a  great  fountain  was  playing  like  a  stream 
of  liquid  diamonds. 

"I  was  so  startled,  and  almost  frightened,  that  I  ripped 
away  for  several  miles  till,  descending  a  little  through  the 
cloud-bank,  I  found  I  was  right  over  Tower  Bridge. 

"But  I  swore  I'd  see  that  majestic  city  again,  and  I 
spiraled  up  and  turned. 

"There  it  was,  many  miles  away  now,  a  mere  speck 
upon  the  billowing  snow  of  the  cloud-bank,  and  as  I  raced 
towards  it  once  more  it  grew  and  grew  into  all  its  former 
loveliness.  I  adjusted  my  engines  and  went  as  slow  as  I 
possibly  could— perhaps  you  know  that  our  modern  aero- 
planes, with  the  new  helicopter  central  screw,  can  glide 
at  not  much  more  than  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  for  a  short 
distance  that  is.  Well,  that's  what  I  did,  and  once  more 
the  place  burst  upon  me  in  all  its  wonder.  It's  the  marvel 
of  marvels.  Sir  Thomas;  I  haven't  got  words  even  to  hint 
at  it.  I  could  see  details  more  clearly  now,  and  I  floated 
by  among  the  ramparts  on  one  side,  not  a  pistol  shot  away. 
And  then,  upon  the  top  of  a  little  flat  tower  there  appeared 
the  most  extraordinary  figure. 
"It  was  a  gigantic  yellow-faced  man  in  a  long  robe  and 


96  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

wide  sleeves,  and  he  threw  his  hands  above  his  head  and 
cursed  me.  Of  course  the  noise  of  the  engine  drowned 
all  he  said,  but  his  face  was  simply  fiendish.  I  just  caught 
one  flash  of  it,  and  I  never  want  to  see  anything  like  it 
again." 

I  sat  spellbound  in  my  chair  while  she  told  me  this  and 
again  the  sense  that  I  was  being  borne  along,  whither 
I  knew  not,  by  some  irresistible  current  of  fate,  possessed 
me  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 

"Why,  you  look  quite  tired  and  gray.  Sir  Thomas,"  said 
Miss  Boynton.    "I  do  hope  I  haven't  bored  you." 

"Bored  me!  I  was  away  up  in  the  air  with  you,  looking 
upon  that  enchanted  city.  But  why,  what  do  you  make 
of  it,  have  you  told  any  one?" 

"Only  father  and  my  sister,  who  said  that  it  must  have 
been  an  illusion  of  the  mist,  a  refraction  of  the  air  at  high 
altitudes  that  transformed  the  wireless  instrument  sheds 
to  fairyland." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  smiled. 

"As  if  I  didn't  know  all  about  that!"  she  said.  "Why, 
it  wasn't  much  more  than  two  thousand  feet  up — a  mere 
hop." 

I  had  to  think  very  rapidly  at  this  juncture.  The  news 
took  one's  breath  away.  To  begin  with,  one  thing  seemed 
perfectly  clear.  Gideon  Morse  had  purposely  told  me  as 
little  as  he  possibly  could.  Yet,  upon  reflection,  I  found 
that  he  had  told  me  no  lies.  He  had  admitted  that  he  was 
at  the  bottom  of  this  colossal  enterprise — was  it  some  Earl's 
Court  of  the  air,  the  last  word  in  amusement  catering?    It 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  97 

might  well  be  so,  though  somehow  or  other  the  thought 
annoyed  me.  Moreover,  the  capital  outlay  must  have  been 
so  vast  that  such  a  scheme  could  never  pay  interest  upon 
it.  Then  I  recollected  that  in  a  few  hours  more  I  should 
have  my  promised  talk  with  Morse  and  he  would  explain 
everything  as  he  had  promised.  There  was  still  a  chance 
of  a  big  scoop  for  the  Evening  Special. 

"Look  here,  Miss  Boynton,"  I  said,  "if  you  keep  what 
you  have  seen  a  secret  for  the  next  two  days,  and  then  let 
me  publish  an  account  of  it,  my  paper  would  gladly  pay 
two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  for  the  story." 

Her  eyes  opened  wide,  like  those  of  a  child  who  has  been 
promised  a  very  big  box  of  chocolates  indeed. 

"Can  do,"  she  said,  holding  out  a  pretty  little  hand  which 
flying  had  in  no  way  roughened  or  distorted.  I  took  it,  and 
so  the  bargain  was  made. 

Soon  afterwards  more  guests  began  to  arrive,  and  the 
great  hall  was  full  of  laughing,  chattering  figures,  among 
whom  were  several  people  that  I  knew.  However,  I  was 
in  no  mood  for  society  or  small  talk  and  I  retired  to  my 
own  room  and  sat  dreaming  before  a  comfortable  fire  until 
Preston  came  in  and  told  me  it  was  time  to  dress. 

I  was  ashamed  to  ask  him  if  the  Morses  had  arrived, 
but  I  went  downstairs  into  a  large  yellow  drawing-room 
half  full  of  people,  and  looked  round  eagerly. 

Lady  Stileman  was  standing  by  one  of  the  fireplaces 
talking  to  Miss  Boynton,  and  I  went  up  to  them.  Appar- 
ently it  was  a  wonderful  year  for  "birds,"  as  partridges, 
and  partridges  alone,  are  called  in  Norfolk.     They  had 


98  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

hatched  out  much  later  than  usual,  hence  the  waiting  until 
the  middle  of  September,  but  covies  were  abnormally  large 
and  the  young  birds  already  strong  upon  the  wing.  Fortu- 
nately Lady  Stileman  did  all  the  talking;  I  smiled,  looked 
oracular  and  said  "Quite  so"  at  intervals.  My  eye  was  on 
the  drawing-room  door  which  led  out  into  the  hall.  Once, 
twice,  it  opened,  but  only  to  admit  strangers  to  me.  The 
third  time,  when  I  made  sure  I  should  see  her  for  whom 
I  sought,  no  one  came  in  but  a  footman  in  the  dark  green 
livery  of  the  house.  He  carried  a  salver,  and  on  it  was 
the  orange-colored  envelope  of  a  telegram. 

With  a  word  of  excuse  Lady  Stileman  opened  it.  She 
nodded  to  the  man  to  go  and  then  turned  to  me  and  Poppy 
Boynton. 

"Such  a  disappointment,"  she  said.  "Mr.  Morse  and 
his  wonderfully  pretty  daughter  were  to  have  been  here,  as 
I  think  you  know.  Now  he  wires  to  say  that  business  of 
the  utmost  importance  prevents  either  him  or  his  daughter 
coming.  Fortunately,"  the  good  lady  concluded,  "he  doesn't 
shoot,  so  that  won't  throw  the  guns  out.  Walter  would  be 
furious  if  that  happened." 

Arthur  and  Pat  Moore  came  into  the  room  at  that  mo- 
ment, and  Arthur  told  me,  an  hour  or  so  afterwards,  that 
I  looked  as  if  I  had  seen  a  ghost,  and  that  my  face  was 
white  as  paper. 


CHAPTER    SIX 

I  MUST  now,  in  the  progress  of  the  story,  give  a  brief 
account  of  what  I  may  call  "The  week  of  rumor,"  which 
immediately  preceded  my  disappearance  and  plunge  into 
the  unknown. 

I  spent  a  miserable  and  agitated  evening  at  Cerne  Hall, 
and  went  early  to  my  room.  Arthur  and  Pat  joined  me 
there  an  hour  later  and  for  some  time  we  talked  over 
what  the  telegram  from  Morse  might  mean,  until  they  re- 
tired to  their  own  rooms  and  I  was  left  alone. 

I  did  not  sleep  a  wink — indeed,  I  made  no  effort  to  go 
to  bed,  though  I  took  off  my  clothes  and  wrapped  myself 
in  a  dressing-gown.  The  suspense  was  almost  unbearable, 
and,  failing  further  news,  I  determined,  at  any  cost  to  the 
shooting  plans  of  my  host,  to  get  myself  recalled  to  London 
by  telegram.  I  felt  sure  that  the  whole  of  my  life's  happi- 
ness was  at  stake. 

The  next  morning  at  nine  o'clock,  just  as  I  was  pre- 
paring to  go  down  to  breakfast,  a  long  wire  was  brought 
to  me.  It  was  in  our  own  office  cipher,  which  I  was  trained 
to  read  without  the  key,  and  it  was  signed  by  Julia  Dews- 
bury.  The  gist  of  the  message  was  that  there  were  strange 
rumors  all  over  Fleet  Street  about  the  great  towers  at  Rich- 
mond.   An  enormous  sensation  was  gathering  like  a  thunder 

99 


loo  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

cloud  in  the  world  of  news  and  would  shortly  burst.  Would 
I  come  to  London  at  the  earliest  possible  moment? 

How  I  got  out  of  Cerne  Hall  I  hardly  remember,  but 
I  did,  to  the  blank  astonishment  of  my  host;  drove  to 
the  nearest  station,  caught  a  train  which  got  me  to  Nor- 
wich in  half  an  hour  and  engaged  the  swiftest  car  in  the 
city  to  run  me  up  to  London  at  top  speed.  Just  after  lunch 
I  burst  into  the  office  of  the  Evening  Special. 

Williams  and  Miss  Dewsbury  were  expecting  me. 

"It's  big  stufif,"  said  the  acting  editor  excitedly,  "and 
we  ought  to  be  in  it  first,  considering  that  we've  more  defi- 
nite information  than  I  expect  any  other  paper  possesses 
as  yet,  though  it  won't  be  the  case  for  very  long," 

I  sat  down  with  hardly  a  word,  and  nodded  to  Miss 
Dewsbury.  Her  training  was  wonderful.  She  had  every- 
thing ready  in  order  to  acquaint  me  with  the  facts  in  the 
shortest  possible  space  of  time. 

She  spoke  into  the  telephone  and  Miss  Easey — "Vera" 
of  our  "Society  Gossip" — came  in. 

"I  have  found  out,  Sir  Thomas,"  she  said,  "that  Mr. 
Gideon  Morse  has  canceled  all  social  engagements  what- 
ever for  himself  and  his  daughter.  Miss  Dewsbury  tells  me 
that  it's  not  necessary  now  to  say  what  these  were.  I 
will,  however,  tell  you  that  they  extended  until  the  New 
Year  and  were  of  the  utmost  social  importance." 

"Canceled,  Miss  Easey?" 

"Definitely  and  finally  canceled,  both  by  letter  to  the 
various  hosts  and  hostesses  concerned,  and  by  an  intima- 
tion which  is  already  sent  to  all  the  London  dailies,  for 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  loi 

publication  to-morrow.  The  notice  came  up  to  my  room 
this  morning  from  our  own  advertising  office,  for  inclusion 
in  'Society  Notes' — as  you  know  such  intimations  are 
printed  as  news  and  paid  for  at  a  guinea  a  line." 

"Any  reason  given,  Miss  Easey?" 

"None  whatever  in  the  notices,  which  are  brief  almost 
to  curtness.  However,  I  have  been  able  to  see  one  of 
the  private  letters  which  has  been  received  by  my  friends. 
Lord  and  Lady  William  Gatehouse,  of  Banks.  It  is  cour- 
teously worded,  and  explains  that  Mr.  and  Miss  Morse  are 
definitely  retiring  from  social  life.  It's  signed  by  his  secre- 
tary." 

The  invaluable  Julia  nodded  to  Miss  Easey.  She  pursed 
up  her  prim  old  mouth,  wished  me  good-morning  and 
rustled  away. 

"That's  that!"  said  Julia,  "now  about  the  towers." 

"Yes,  about  the  towers,"  I  said,  and  my  voice  was  very 
hoarse. 

"As  my  poor  friend,  ^Iv.  Rolston,  discovered,"  she  said 
bravely,  "these  monstrous  blots  upon  London  are  certainly 
not  for  the  purposes  of  wireless  telegraphy.  There  are  half 
the  journalists  in  London  at  Richmond  at  the  present  mo- 
ment, including  two  of  our  own  reporters,  and  it  is  said 
that  on  the  immense  platforms  between  the  towers,  a  series 
of  extraordinary  and  luxurious  buildings  has  been  erected. 
It  is  widely  believed  that  Gideon  Morse  is  out  of  his  mind, 
and  has  retired  to  a  sort  of  unassailable,  luxurious  hermitage 
in  the  sky." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  a  sub-editor  came 


I02  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

in  with  a  long  white  strip  just  torn  from  the  tape  machine. 
I  took  it  and  read  that  the  "Central  News  Agencies"  an- 
nounces "crowds  at  base  of  towers  surrounded  by  a  thirty- 
foot  wall.  Callers  at  principal  gate  are  politely  received 
by  Boss  Mulligan,  formerly  well-known  boxer,  United 
States,  now  in  the  service  of  Gideon  M.  Morse.  Inquirers 
told  that  no  statement  can  be  issued  for  publication.  Later. 
Rumor  in  neighborhood  says  that  towers  are  entirely  staffed 
by  special  Chinese  servants,  large  company  of  which  ar- 
rived at  Liverpool  on  Thursday  last.  Growing  certainty 
that  towers  are  private  enterprise  of  one  man,  Morse,  the 
Brazilian  multi-millionaire." 

A  telephone  bell  on  my  table  rang.    I  took  it  up. 

"Is  that  Sir  Thomas?  Charles  Danvers  speaking" — it 
was  the  voice  of  our  dapper  young  Parliamentary  corre- 
spondent, the  nephew  of  a  prominent  under-secretary,  and 
as  smart  as  they  make  them. 

"Yes,  where  are  you?" 

"House  of  Commons.  Mr.  Bloxhame,  Member  for  Bud- 
mouth,  is  asking  a  question  in  the  House  this  afternoon 
about  the  Richmond  Tower  sensation.  The  Secretary  to 
the  Board  of  Trade  will  reply.  There's  great  interest  in 
the  lobby.  Special  edition  clearly  indicated.  Question  will 
come  on  about  four." 

I  sent  every  one  away  and  thought  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour.  Of  course  all  this  absolved  me  of  my  promise 
to  Morse.  He  had  played  with  me,  fooled  me  absolutely 
and  I  had  been  like  a  babe  in  his  astute  hands.     Well, 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  103 

there  was  no  time  to  think  of  my  own  private  grievances. 
My  immediate  duty  was  to  make  as  good  a  show  that  aft- 
ernoon and  the  next  day  as  any  other  paper.  My  hope  was 
to  beat  all  my  rivals  out  of  the  field. 

After  all,  there  were  nothing  but  rumors  and  surmise 
up  to  the  present.  The  news  situation  might  change  in  a 
couple  of  hours,  but  at  the  present  moment  I  felt  certain 
that  I  knew  more  about  the  affair  than  any  other  man  in 
Fleet  Street.  I  set  my  teeth  and  resolved  to  let  old  Morse 
have  it  in  the  neck. 

Within  an  hour  or  so  we  had  an  "Extra  Edition"  on 
the  streets,  and  during  that  hour  I  drew  on  my  own  pri- 
vate knowledge  and  dictated  to  Miss  Dewsbury,  and  a 
couple  of  other  stenographers.  Poppy  Boynton's  experi- 
ence was  a  godsend.  I  remembered  her  own  vivid  words 
of  the  night  before,  and  I  printed  them  in  the  form  of 
an  interview  which  must  have  satisfied  even  that  delightful 
girl's  himger  for  advertisement.  Incidentally,  I  sent  a  man 
from  the  Corps  of  Commissionaires  down  to  Cerne  in  a 
fast  motor-car,  with  notes  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  in  an 
envelope,  and  instructions  to  stop  in  Regent  Street  on  his 
way  and  buy  the  finest  box  of  chocolates  that  London 
could  produce — I  remember  the  bill  came  in  a  few  days 
afterwards,  and  if  you'll  believe  me,  it  was  for  seventeen 
pounds  ten! 

At  four  o'clock,  while  the  question  was  being  asked  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  all  the  other  evening  papers 
were  waiting  the  result  for  their  special  editions,  my  "Extra 


104  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Special"  was  rushing  all  over  London — the  "Extra  Special" 
containing  the  "First  Authentic  Description  of  the  City  in 
the  Clouds." 

"You  really  are  wonderful,  Sir  Thomas,"  said  Miss  Dews- 
bury,  removing  her  tortoise-shell  spectacles  and  touching  her 
eyes  with  a  somewhat  dingy  handkerchief,  "but  where,  oh, 
where  is  William  Rolston?" 

"My  dear  girl,"  I  replied,  "from  what  I've  seen  of 
William  Rolston,  I'm  quite  certain  that  he's  alive  and  kick- 
ing. Not  only  that,  but  we  shall  hear  from  him  again  very 
shortly." 

"You  really  think  so,  Sir  Thomas?" — the  eyes,  hitherto 
concealed  by  the  spectacles,  were  really  rather  fascinating 
eyes  after  all. 

"I  don't  think  so,  I  know  it.  Look  here,  Miss  Dews- 
bury" — for  some  reason  I  couldn't  resist  the  temptation 
of  a  confidence — "this  thing,  this  stunt  hits  me  privately  a 
great  deal  harder  than  you  can  have  any  idea  of.  You 
said  that  the  shadow  of  the  towers  was  across  my  path, 
and  you  were  more  right  than  you  knew.  Enough  said. 
I  think  we've  whacked  Fleet  Street  this  afternoon.  Well 
and  good.  There's  a  lot  behind  this  momentary  sensation, 
which  I  shall  never  leave  go  of  until  it's  straightened  out. 
This  is  between  you  and  me,  not  for  office  consumption, 
but,"  I  put  my  hand  upon  her  thin  arm,  "if  I  can  help  in 
any  way,  you  shall  have  your  Bill  Rolston." 

She  turned  her  head  away  and  walked  to  the  window. 
Then  she  said  an  astonishing  thing. 

"If  only  I  could  help  you  to  your  Juanita!" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  105 

''WHAT!"  I  shouted,  "what  on  earth—" 
A  page  came  m  with  a  telegram. 

"Addressed  to  you,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "marked  per- 
sonal." 

I  tore  it  open,  it  was  from  Pat  Moore. 

"Extraordinary  youth  followed  us  out  shooting,  and 
came  up  at  lunch  asking  for  you.  Boy  of  about  sixteen. 
Mysterious  cove  with  the  assurance  of  Mephistopheles. 
Some  question  of  fifty  pounds  was  to  get  from  you  on 
delivering  letter.  Gave  him  your  address  and  he  departed 
for  London." 

I  couldn't  make  head  or  tail  of  Pat's  wire,  and  I  put 
it  down  on  the  table  for  future  consideration,  when  Wil- 
liams hurried  in  with  a  pad  of  paper. 

"Danvers  just  'phoned  through,"  he  said,  "and  I've  sent 
the  message  downstairs  for  the  stop  press." 

I  began  to  read. 

"Bloxhame  interrogated  Secretary  to  the  Board  of  Trade, 
who  replied  it  was  perfectly  true  that  the  towers  were  built 
to  the  order  of  Gideon  Morse  and  were  his  property.  Morse 
has  entered  into  an  agreement  with  the  Government  engag- 
ing not  to  use  the  towers  for  wireless  telegraphy  or  for 
any  other  purpose  than  a  strictly  private  one,  which  appears 
to  be  that  he  intends  to  live  on  the  platforms  on  the  top. 
At  his  death  the  whole  property  will  pass  into  possession 
of  the  Government,  to  be  used  for  wireless  purposes,  or 
for  the  principal  aeroplane  station  between  England  and 
the  Continent.    Aeroplanes,  when  the  existing  buildings  are 


io6  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

removed,  will  be  able  to  alight  from  the  platforms  in  num- 
bers. Expenditure  from  first  to  last,  Board  of  Trade  esti- 
mates at  seven  millions.  Feeling  of  House  at  such  a  mag- 
nificent gift  to  the  Nation,  which  is  bound  to  fall  in  within 
twenty  years  or  so,  friendly  and  satisfactory.  In  answer 
to  a  question  from  Commander  Crosman,  M.P.  for  Rod- 
well,  President  Board  of  Aerial  Control  announces  that 
strict  orders  have  been  issued  that  aeroplanes  are  not  to 
circle  round  the  towers  or  in  any  way  annoy  present  pro- 
prietor. The  House  is  greatly  amused  and  interested  at 
this  romantic  news." 

Williams  departed  to  issue  another  "Extra  Special,"  and 
I  was  once  more  left  alone.  Obviously  the  secret  was  out, 
it  was  startling  enough  in  all  conscience,  and,  as  I  thought, 
merely  the  whim  of  a  madman.  And  yet  there  were  aspects 
of  it  which  were  inexplicable.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
whatever  that  Gideon  Morse  had  flouted  English  society, 
which  had  treated  him  with  extreme  kindness,  in  a  way 
that  it  would  never  forget.  That  surely  was  not  the  action 
of  a  sane  man.  If  he  had  wanted  to  build  for  himself 
a  lordly  "pleasure  house"  to  which  he  might  retire  upon 
occasions,  a  sane  man  would  have  arranged  things  very 
differently.  Certainly,  and  this  was  not  without  some 
bitter  satisfaction  to  me,  he  had  ruined  his  daughter's 
chances  of  a  brilliant  marriage — for  a  long  time  at  any  rate. 
I  saw  that  secrecy  had  been  necessary,  though  it  had  been 
carried  to  an  extreme  degree;  but  why  had  he  fooled  me 
under  the  guise  of  friendship?  Surely  he  could  have  trusted 
my  word. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  107 

I  was  furious  as  I  thought  of  the  way  I  had  been  done. 
I  was  furious  also,  and  worse  than  furious,  alarmed,  when 
I  thought  of  Juanita.  Had  she  been  in  the  plot  the  whole 
time?  Did  she  like  being  spirited  away  from  all  that 
could  make  a  young  girl's  life  bright  and  happy?  What 
was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all? 

The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  try  and  keep  ahead,  or 
level,  with  my  rival  contemporaries  in  the  matter  of  news, 
and  privately  to  wait  on  events,  and  think  the  matter  out 
definitely.  For  the  next  few  days,  weeks  perhaps,  some 
of  the  acutest  brains  in  England  would  be  puzzled  over 
this  problem,  and  if  there  was  really  anything  more  in  it 
than  the  freak  of  a  colossal  egotist,  who  thus,  with  a  superb 
gesture,  signified  his  scorn  of  the  world,  then  some  light 
might  come. 

Suddenly  I  felt  ill,  and  collapsed.  I  gave  a  few  instruc- 
tions, left  the  office  and  went  home  to  Piccadilly,  and  to 
bed. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  when  Preston  woke  me.  I 
had  had  a  bath  and  changed,  and  was  wondering  exactly 
what  I  should  do  for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  when  Preston 
came  in  and  said  that  there  was  a  boy  who  wished  to  see 
me.  He  would  neither  give  his  name  nor  his  business,  but 
seemed  respectable. 

I  remembered  Pat's  mysterious  telegram,  which  till  now 
I  had  quite  forgotten,  and  with  a  certain  quickening  of  the 
pulses  I  ordered  the  boy  to  be  shown  up. 

He  came  into  the  room  with  a  scrape  and  a  bow,  a  nice- 
looking  lad  of  sixteen,  decently  dressed  in  black. 


io8  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"Who  are  you  and  what  do  you  want?"  I  said. 

He  seemed  a  little  nervous  and  his  eyes  were  bright. 

"Are  you  Sir  Thomas  Kirby?" 

"Yes,  what  is  it?  By  the  way,  haven't  you  been  all  the 
way  to  Norfolk  to  find  me?" 

"Yes,  sir,  it's  my  day  off,  but  unfortunately  I  found 
you  had  left,  sir,  so  I  came  on  here  as  fast  as  I  could. 
A  gentleman  at  Cerne  Hall  gave  me  your  address." 

"And  how  did  you  know  I  was  at  Cerne  Hall?" 

"It's  on  the  envelope,  sir." 

"The  envelope?" 

"Yes,  sir,  the  one  I  was  to  deliver  to  you  personally, 
and  on  no  account  to  let  it  get  into  the  hands  of  any  one 
else,  even  one  of  your  servants,  sir,  and" — he  breathed  a 
little  fast — "and  the  lady  said  that  you  would  certainly 
give  me  fifty  pounds,  sir,  if  I  did  exactly  as  she  ordered, 
and  never  breathed  a  word  to  a  single  soul." 

In  an  instant  I  understood.  The  blood  grew  hot  and 
raced  into  my  veins  as  I  held  out  my  hand,  trembling  with 
impatience,  while  the  youth  performed  a  somewhat  com- 
plicated operation  of  half  undressing,  eventually  produc- 
ing a  brown  paper  packet  intricately  tied  with  string,  from 
some  inner  recesses  of  his  wardrobe. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  asked  while  he  was  unbuttoning. 

"James  Smith,  sir,  one  of  the  pages  at  the  Ritz  Hotel." 

I  tore  off  the  wrappers  imposed  upon  the  letter  by  this 
cautious  youth.  There  was  a  letter  addressed  to  me  in  a 
fine  Italian  hand  which  I  knew  from  having  seen  it  in  one 
word  only — "Cerne." 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  109 

Fortunately,  I  had  plenty  of  money  in  the  flat  and  there 
was  no  need  to  give  the  excellent  James  Smith  a  check. 

He  gasped  with  joy  as  he  tucked  away  the  crackling  bits 
of  paper. 

"And  remember,  not  ever  a  word  to  any  one,  Smith." 

''On  my  honor,  sir,"  he  said,  saluting. 

"And  what  will  you  do  with  it,  Smith?" 

"Please,  sir,  I  hope  to  pelmanize  myself  into  an  hotel 
manager,"  he  said,  and  I  let  him  go  at  that.  I  only  hope 
that  he  will  succeed. 

I  opened  the  letter.    It  ran  as  follows: 

"Farewell.  I  don't  suppose  we  shall  ever  meet  again. 
I  am  forced  to  retire  from  the  world — from  love — from 
you. 

"I  cannot  explain,  but  fear  walks  with  me  night  and 
day.  Oh,  my  love!  if  you  could  only  save  me,  you  would, 
I  know,  but  it  is  impossible  and  so  farewell.  Were  I  not 
sure  that  we  shall  not  see  each  other  more  I  could  not  write 
as  I  have  done  and  signed  myself  here, 

"Your 

"JUANITA." 

I  put  the  letter  carefully  into  the  breast-pocket  of  my 
coat,  and  then,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  fainted  dead 
away. 

Preston  found  me  a  few  minutes  later,  got  me  right  some- 
how, ascertained  that  I  had  not  eaten  for  many  hours, 
scolded  me  like  a  father,  and  poured  turtle  soup  into  me 


no  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

till  I  was  alive  again,  alive  and  changed  from  the  man  I 
had  been  a  few  hours  ago. 

The  next  day  I  satisfied  myself  that  all  was  going  well 
in  the  office,  and  simply  roamed  about  London.  Already 
I  think  the  dim  purpose  which  afterwards  came  to  such 
extraordinary  fruit  was  being  born  in  my  mind.  I  wanted 
to  be  alone,  taken  quite  out  of  my  usual  surroundings, 
and  I  achieved  this  with  considerable  success.  I  rode  in 
tube  trains  and  heard  every  one  discussing  Gideon  Morse, 
and  what  was  already  known  as  the  "City  in  the  Clouds." 
The  papers  announced  that  thousands  of  people  were  en- 
camped in  Richmond  Park  gazing  upwards,  and  seeing  noth- 
ing because  of  a  cloud  veil  that  hung  around  the  top  of 
the  towers.  It  seemed  the  proprietors  of  telescopes  on 
tripods  were  doing  a  roaring  trade  at  threepence  a  look, 
but  the  gate  in  the  grim,  prison-like  walls  surrounding  the 
grounds  at  the  foot  of  the  tower,  was  never  once  opened 
all  day  long. 

I  began  to  realize  that  probably  nothing  new,  nothing 
reliable  that  is,  would  transpire  at  present.  The  sensation 
would  go  its  usual  way.  There  would  be  songs  and  allu- 
sions in  all  the  revues  to-night.  Punch  would  have  a  car- 
toon, suggesting  the  City  in  the  Clouds  as  a  place  of  ban- 
ishment for  its  particular  bugbear  of  the  moment.  Gossip 
papers  would  be  full  of  beautiful,  untrue  stories  of  a  ro- 
mantic nature  about  the  girl  I  loved,  her  name  would  be 
the  subject  of  a  million  jokes  by  a  million  vulgar  people. 
Then,  little  by  little,  the  excitement  would  die  away. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  in 

All  this,  as  a  trained  journalist  I  foresaw  easily  enough, 
but  knowing  what  I  knew— what  probably  I  alone  of  all 
the  teeming  millions  in  London  knew— I  was  forming  a 
resolve,  which  hourly  grew  stronger,  that  I  would  never 
rest  until  I  knew  the  worst. 

I  found  myself  in  Kensington.  There  was  a  motor- 
omnibus  starting  for  Whitechapel  Road.  I  climbed  on  the 
top. 

"I  sye,"  piped  a  little  ragamuffin  office  boy  to  his  friend, 
"why  does  Jewanniter  live  in  the  clouds,  Willum?" 
"Arsk  me  another." 
"  'Cos  she's  a  celebrated  'airess— see?" 
"What  I  say,"  said  a  meager-looking  man  with  a  bris- 
tling mustache  which   unsuccessfully  concealed  his   slack 
and  feeble  mouth,  "is  simply  this.    If  Mr.  Morse  chooses 
to  live  in  a  certain  way  of  life  and  'as  the  money  to  carry 
it  out,  why  not  let  him  alone?     Freedom  for  every  indi- 
vidual is  a  'progative  of  English  life,  and  I  expect  Morse 
is  fair  furious  with  what  they're  saying  about  him,  for 
I  have  it  on  the  best  authority  that  a  copy  of  every  edition 
of  the  Evening  Special  goes  up  to  him  in  the  tower  lifts  as 
soon  as  it  is  issued." 

Words,  words,  words!  everywhere,  silly,  irresponsible 
chatter  which  I  heeded  as  little  as  a  thrush  heeds  a  shower 
of  rain. 

Steadily,  swiftly,  certainly,  my  purpose  grew. 
I  got  down  in  the  Whitechapel  Road,  that  wide  and  un- 
lovely thoroughfare,  and,  feeling  hungry,  went  into  a  dingy 
little  restaurant  partitioned  off  in  boxes.    The  tablecloth 


112  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

was  of  stained  oil  skin,  the  guests  the  seediest  t5T)e  of  minor 
clerks,  but  I  do  remember  that  for  ninepence  I  had  a  little 
beefsteak  and  kidney  pudding  to  myself  which  was  as  good 
as  anything  I  have  ever  eaten.  As  I  went  out  I  saw  my 
neighbor  of  the  omnibus  who  had  spoken  so  eloquently 
of  freedom,  walking  by  with  a  little  black  bag,  as  in  an 
aimless  way  I  hailed  a  taxicab  from  the  rank  opposite  a 
London  hospital  and  told  the  man  to  drive  slowly  west- 
wards. 

He  did  so,  and  when  we  came  to  the  Embankment  a 
gleam  of  afternoon  sunshine  began  to  enlighten  what  had 
been  a  leaden  day.  Thinking  a  brisk  walk  from  Black 
Friars  to  Westminster  would  help  my  thoughts,  I  dismissed 
the  cab  and  started. 

It  was  with  an  odd  little  thrill  and  flutter  of  the  heart 
that  far  away  westwards,  to  the  left  of  the  Houses  of  Par- 
liament, I  saw  three  ghostly  lines,  no  thicker  than  lamp 
posts,  it  seemed,  springing  upwards  from  nothingness.  At 
Cleopatra's  Needle,  I  felt  the  want  of  a  cigarette  and 
stopped  to  light  one. 

At  the  moment  there  were  few  people  on  the  pavement, 
though  the  unceasing  trafi&c  in  the  road  roared  by  as  usual. 
I  lit  the  cigarette,  put  my  case  back  in  my  pocket,  and 
was  about  to  continue  my  stroll  when  I  heard  some  one 
padding  up  behind  me  with  obvious  purpose. 

I  half  turned,  and  there  again  I  saw  the  man  with  the 
weak  mouth  and  the  big  mustache. 

It  flashed  upon  me,  for  the  first  time,  that  1  was  being 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  113 

followed,  had  been  followed  probably  during  the  whole  of 
my  wanderings. 

As  I  said,  there  was  nobody  immediately  about,  so  I 
turned  to  rabbit-face  and  challenged  him. 

"You're  following  me,  my  man,  why?  Out  with  it  or 
I'll  give  you  in  charge." 

''Yer  can't,"  he  said.  "This  is  a  free  country,  freedom  is 
my  'progative  as  well  as  yerself,  Sir  Thomas  Kirby.  I've 
done  nothing  to  annoy  yer,  have  I?" 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders. 

"But  you  have  been  following  me." 

His  manner  changed  at  once. 

"Ever  since  you  left  Piccadilly,  Sir  Thomas,  waiting  my 
opportunity.  I'm  a  private  inquiry  agent  by  profession, 
though  this  job  of  shadowing  you  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  office  that  employs  me.  I  have  a  yoimg  friend  in  my 
house  who's  turned  up  sudden  and  mysterious,  a  young 
friend  I  lost  sight  of  many  weeks  ago.  He  says  you'll  come 
to  him  at  once  if  I  could  only  get  you  alone  and  be  certain 
that  no  one  saw  me  speak  to  you.  His  instructions  were  to 
follow  you  about  until  such  an  opportunity  as  this  arose, 
and  all  the  time  I  was  to  be  certain  that  no  one  else  was 
following  you.    I  have  ascertained  that  all  right." 

He  put  his  head  close  to  mine  and  I  felt  his  hot  breath 
upon  my  cheek. 

"It's  Mr.  William  Rolston,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said.  "I'm 
not  in  his  confidence,  though  I  have  long  admired  his  abili- 
ties and  predicted  a  great  future  for  him.    He's  come  to 


114  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

me  in  distress  and  I  am  doing  what  I  can  to  'elp  'im — tliis 
being  a  day  when  they've  no  job  for  me  at  the  office." 

"Good  Lord!  why  didn't  you  speak  to  me  this  morning, 
if  you've  been  following  me  all  day?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Wouldn't  have  done.  Mr.  Rolston's  instructions  was 
different  and  he  has  his  reasons,  though  I'm  not  in  his 
confidence.  I've  done  it  out  of  admiration  for  his  talents, 
and  no  doubt  some  day  he'll  be  in  a  position  to  pay  me  for 
my  work." 

"Pay  you,  you  idiot!"  I  could  have  taken  him  by  the 
throat  and  shaken  the  fool.  "Mr.  Rolston  knows  very 
well  that  he  can  command  any  money  he  chooses.  He's 
a  member  of  my  staff." 

We  were  now  walking  along  together  towards  West- 
minster. 

"That's  as  may  be,"  said  my  seedy  friend,  "but  'e  'adn't 
a  brass  farthing  this  morning,  and  come  to  that,  Sir  Thomas, 
if  you'd  got  into  another  blinking  taxi,  you'd  have  snookered 
mer 

"Where  do  you  live?"  I  asked  impatiently. 

"Not  far  from  where  you  'ad  your  lunch.  Sir  Thomas. 
15,  Imperial  Mansions,  Royal  Road,  Stepney." 

"It's  a  magnificent  address,"  I  said,  as  I  held  out  my  stick 
for  a  cab. 

"It's  a  block  o'  workmen's  buildings,  reely,"  he  replied 
gloomily,  "and  in  the  thick  of  the  Chinese  quarter,  which 
makes  it  none  too  savory.  But  an  Englishman's  house  is  his 
castle  and  he  has  the  'progative  to  call  it  what  he  likes." 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  115 

Back  east  we  went  again  and  in  half  an  hour  I  was 
mounting  interminable  stone  steps  to  a  door  nearly  at  the 
top  of  ''Imperial  Mansions,"  which  my  guide,  who  during 
our  drive  had  introduced  himself  to  me  as  Mr.  Herbert 
Sliddim,  announced  as  his  home.  In  a  dingily  furnished 
room,  sitting  on  a  molting,  plush  sofa  I  saw  the  curious 
little  man  to  whom  I  had  so  taken  months  ago.  He  was 
shabby  almost  to  beggary.  His  face  was  pale  and  worn, 
which  gave  him  an  aspect  of  being  much  older  than  I  had 
imagined  him.  But  his  irrepressible  ears  stood  out  as  of 
yore  and  his  eyes  were  not  dimmed. 

"Hallo,"  I  said,  "glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Rolston,  though 
you've  neglected  us  at  the  office  for  a  long  time.  Your 
arrears  of  salary  have  been  mounting  up." 

His  hand  was  trembling  as  I  gripped  it. 

"Oh,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "do  j^ou  really  mean  that  I 
am  still  on  the  staff?" 

"Of  course  you  are,  my  dear  boy." 

I  turned  to  Mr.  Sliddim. 

"Now  I  wonder,"  I  said,  "if  I  might  have  a  little  quiet 
conversation  with  Mr.  Rolston." 

"By  all  means,"  he  replied.  "I'll  wait  in  the  court- 
yard." 

"I  shouldn't  do  that,  Mr.  Sliddim.  Why  not  take  a  tour 
round?" 

I  led  him  out  of  the  room  into  the  passage  which  served 
for  hall,  pressed  a  couple  of  pounds  into  his  hand  and  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  leap  away  down  the  stairs 
like  an  antelope. 


ii6  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Rolston.  "Now  he'll  go  and 
get  blotto,  it's  the  poor  devil's  failing.  Still,  he'll  be 
happy." 

I  sat  down,  passed  my  cigarette  case  to  Rolston,  and 
waited  for  him  to  begin. 

He  sort  of  came  to  attention. 

"I  was  rung  up.  Sir  Thomas,  at  your  flat — at  least  your 
valet  was — and  told  to  come  to  the  office  of  the  Evening 
Special  at  once." 

"I  know,  go  on." 

"I  dressed  as  quickly  as  I  could,  ran  down  the  stairs 
and  jumped  into  the  waiting  cab.  The  door  banged  and 
we  started  off.  The  engines  must  have  been  running,  for 
we  went  away  like  a  flash.  There  was  some  one  else 
sitting  there.  A  hand  clapped  over  my  mouth  and  an  arm 
round  my  body.  I  couldn't  move  or  speak.  Then  the  thumb 
of  the  hand  did  something  to  the  big  nerves  behind  my 
ear.  It's  an  Oriental  trick  and  I  had  just  realized  it  when 
something  wet  and  sweet  was  pressed  over  my  mouth  and 
nose,  and  I  lost  all  consciousness. 

"When  I  woke  up  I  found  myself  in  a  fair-sized  room, 
lit  by  a  skylight  high  up  in  the  roof.  There  was  a  bed, 
a  table,  a  chair,  and  various  other  conveniences,  and  I 
hadn't  the  slightest  idea  where  I  could  be.  My  head  ached 
and  I  felt  bruised  all  over,  so  I  drank  a  glass  of  water, 
crawled  back  into  the  bed  and  slept.  When  I  woke  again 
there  was  an  affable  Chink  sitting  by  my  side,  who  spoke 
quite  good  English. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  117 

'*  'You  will,'  he  said,  'be  kept  here  for  some  time  in 
durance,  yess.    It's  an  unfortunate  necessity,  yess.' 

''I  heard  on  all  sides  familiar  noises.  I  knew  in  a  mo- 
ment what  had  happened.  I  had  been  brought  back  to  the 
works  at  the  base  of  the  three  towers." 

''AH  this  fits  in  very  well  with  what  I  now  know,  Rolston, 
I'll  tell  you  everything  in  a  minute,  but  I  ■  want  to  hear 
your  story  first." 

"Very  good,  Sir  Thomas.  For  over  three  months  I've 
been  kept  a  prisoner  at  Richmond.  I  wasn't  badly  treated. 
I  had  anything  I  liked  to  eat  and  drink,  any  books  to  read 
— tobacco,  a  bath — everything  but  newspapers,  which  were 
rigidly  denied  me.  I  wasn't  kept  entirely  to  my  prison 
room.  I  was  allowed  to  go  out  and  take  exercise  within 
the  domain  surrourded  by  the  great  thirty- foot  wall,  though 
I  was  never  let  to  roam  about  as  I  wished.  There  was 
always  a  big  Chinese  coolie  with  a  leaded  cane  attending 
me,  a  man  that  only  spoke  a  few  words  of  English. 

"Now,  Sir  Thomas,  please  remember  this.  From  first 
to  last  none  of  my  jailers  knew  that  I  understood  Chinese. 
And  none  of  them  knew  or  suspected  that  I  had  been  among 
the  workmen  before,  in  order  to  get  materials  for  the  scoop 
with  which  I  came  to  you." 

I  saw  the  value  of  that  at  once. 

"Good  for  you,  Rolston;  now  please  continue," 

"Well,  Sir  Thomas,  I  kept  my  eyes  and  ears  very  wide 
open  and  I  learnt  a  lot.  Things  were  being  prepared  with 
a  feverish  activity  of  which  the  people  outside  had  not  the 


ii8  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

slightest  idea.  I  found  that  round  the  base  of  the  towers, 
in  the  miniature  park  inclosed  by  the  high  wall,  there  were 
already  magnificent  vegetable  gardens  in  active  being. 
There  were  huge  conservatories  which  must  have  been  set 
up  when  the  towers  w^ere  only  a  few  hundred  feet  high,  now 
full  of  the  rarest  flowers  and  shrubs.  In  my  walks,  I  saw 
a  miniature  poultry  farm,  conducted  on  the  most  up-to- 
date  methods;  there  was  a  dairy,  with  four  or  five  cows — 
already  this  part  of  the  huge  inclosure  was  assuming  a  rural 
aspect.  It  must  have  been  planned  and  started  nearly  two 
years  ago." 

"You  asked  questions,  I  suppose?" 

"Any  amount,  as  innocently  as  I  possibly  could.  I  got 
very  little  out  of  my  captors  in  reply.  Your  Chinaman 
is  the  most  secretive  person  in  the  world.  But,  I  heard  them 
talking  among  themselves;  and  I  was  amazed  at  the  calcu- 
lated organization  which  had  been  going  on  without  cessa- 
tion from  the  beginning. 

"It  all  fitted  in  exactly  with  what  I  told  you  at  the 
Special  office.  It  was  as  though  Mr.  Morse  was  planning 
a  little  private  world  of  his  own,  which  would  be  inde- 
pendent of  everything  outside." 

"And  about  the  towers  themselves?" 

"It  will  take  me  hours  to  tell  you.  In  one  quarter  of 
the  inclosure  there  are  great  dynamo  sheds — an  electric  in- 
stallation inferior  to  nothing  else  of  its  kind  in  the  world. 
The  great  lifts  which  rise  and  fall  in  the  towers  are  electric. 
Heating,  lighting,  artificial  daylight  for  the  conservatories — 
all  are  electric. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  119 

"Where  I  was  kept,"  he  went  on,  "was  nearly  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  engineering  section,  but  I  knew  that  it 
hummed  with  extraordinary  activity  night  and  day.  I  dis- 
covered that  structural  buildings  of  light  steel  were  pouring 
in  from  America,  that  an  army  of  decorators  and  painters 
was  at  work;  vans  of  priceless  Oriental  furniture  and  hang- 
ings were  arriving  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  rare  flowers 
and  shrubs  also.  Sir  Thomas,  it  was  as  though  the  Uni- 
verse was  being  searched  for  wonders — all  to  be  concen- 
trated here. 

"This  went  on  and  on  till  I  lost  count  of  the  days  and 
lived  in  a  sort  of  dream,  kindly  treated  enough,  allowed  to 
see  many  secret  things,  and  always  with  a  sense  that  be- 
cause this  was  so,  I  should  never  again  emerge  into  the  real 
world." 

"I  can  understand  that,  Rolston.  Every  word  you  say 
interests  me  extremely." 

"I'll  come  to  the  present.  Sir  Thomas.  You  can  ask  me 
any  details  that  you  like  afterwards.  A  few  days  ago 
everything  was  speeded  up  to  extraordinary  pitch.  Then, 
late  one  night,  there  was  a  great  to-do,  and  in  the  morning 
I  learned  that  Mr.  Morse  and  his  family  had  arrived,  and 
that  they  were  up  at  the  top.  I  have  found  out  since  that 
this  was  the  fourteenth  of  September." 

"The  fourteenth!"  I  cried. 

"Yes,  Sir  Thomas,  the  fourteenth.  The  next  day,  it  was 
late  in  the  afternoon  and  the  sun  was  setting,  two  China- 
men came  into  my  room,  tied  a  handkerchief  over  my  eyes 
and  led  me  out.     I  was  put  into  one  of  the  little  electric 


120  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

railways — open  cars  which  run  all  over  the  inclosure — and 
taken  to  the  base  of  the  towers. 

"I  don't  know  which  tower  it  was,  but  I  was  led  into 
a  lift  and  a  long,  slow  ascent  began.  I  knew  that  I  was 
in  one  of  the  big  carrying  lifts  that  take  a  long  time  to 
do  the  third  of  a  mile  up  to  the  City,  not  one  of  the  quick- 
running  elevators  which  leap  upwards  from  stage  to  stage 
for  passengers  and  arrive  at  the  top  in  a  comparatively  short 
space  of  time. 

"When  the  lift  stopped  they  took  off  the  handkerchief 
and  I  found  myself  in  a  great  whitewashed  barn  of  a  place 
which  was  obviously  a  storeroom.  There  were  bales  of 
stuff,  huge  boxes  and  barrels  on  every  side. 

"The  men  who  had  brought  me  up  were  just  rough 
Chinese  workmen  from  Hong  Kong,  but  a  door  opened 
and  a  Chink  of  quite  another  sort  came  in  and  took  me 
by  the  arm. 

"You  see,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  explained,  "to  the  ordinary 
Englishman  one  Chinaman  is  just  like  another,  but  my  expe- 
rience in  the  East  enables  me  to  distinguish  at  once. 

"The  newcomer  was  of  a  very  superior  class,  and  he  led 
me  out  of  the  storeroom,  across  a  swaying  bridge  of  latticed 
steel  to  a  little  rotunda.  As  we  passed  along,  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  the  whole  of  London,  far,  fa'r  below.  The 
Thames  was  like  a  piece  of  glittering  string.  Everything 
else  were  simply  patches  of  gray,  green,  and  brown. 

"We  went  into  the  cupola  and  a  tiny  lift  shot  us  up 
like  a  bullet  until  it  stopped  with  a  clank  and  I  knew  that 
I  was  now  upon  the  highest  platform  of  all. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  121 

"But  I  could  see  nothing,  for  we  simply  turned  down 
a  long  corridor  lighted  by  electricity  and  softly  carpeted, 
which  might  have  been  the  corridor  of  one  of  the  great 
hotels  far  down  below  in  town. 

"My  conductor,  who  wore  pince-nez  and  a  suit  of  dark 
blue  alpaca  and  who  had  a  charming  smile,  stopped  at  a 
door,  rapped,  and  pushed  me  in. 

"I  found  myself  in  a  room  of  considerable  size.  It  was 
a  library.  The  walls  were  covered  with  shelves  of  old  oak, 
in  which  there  were  innumerable  books.  A  Turkey  carpet, 
two  or  three  writing-tables — and  Mr.  Gideon  Morse,  whom 
I  had  never  spoken  to,  but  had  seen  driving  in  Hyde  Park, 
sat  there  smoking  a  cigar. 

"I  might  have  been  in  the  library  of  a  country  house, 
except  for  two  things.  There  were  no  windows  to  this 
large  and  gracious  room.  It  was  lit  from  above,  like  a 
billiard-room — domed  skylights  in  the  roof.  But  the  light 
that  came  down  was  not  a  light  like  anything  I  had  ever 
seen.  It  lit  up  every  detail  of  the  magnificent  and  stately 
place,  but  it  was  new — 'the  light  that  never  was  on  earth 
or  sea.'  It  was  just  that  that  made  me  realize  where  I  was 
— two  thousand  three  hundred  feet  up  in  the  air,  alone 
with  Gideon  Morse,  who  had  snatched  me  out  of  life  three 
months  before." 

"I  know  Mr.  Morse,  Rolston.  What  impression  did  he 
make  on  you?" 

"For  a  moment  he  stunned  me.  Sir  Thomas.  I  knew 
I  was  in  the  presence  of  a  superman.  All  that  I  had  heard 
about  him,  all  the  legends  that  surrounded  his  name,  the 


122  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

fact  of  this  stupendous  sky  city  in  which  I  was — the  ease 
with  which  he  had  stretched  out  his  hand  and  made  me 
a  prisoner,  all  combined  to  produce  awe  and  fear." 

"Yes,  go  on." 

"I  saw  two  other  things — I  think  I  did.  One  was  that 
the  man's  sanity  is  trembling  in  the  balance.  The  other 
that  if  ever  a  human  being  lives  and  moves  and  has  his 
being  in  deadly  temporal  fear,  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse  is 
that  man." 

The  words  rang  out  in  that  East-end  room  with  prophetic 
force.  It  was  as  though  a  brilliant  light  was  snapped  on 
to  illumine  a  dark  chamber  in  my  soul. 

"What  did  he  say  to  you,  Rolston?" 

"He  was  suavity  and  kindness  itself.  He  said  that  he 
immensely  regretted  the  necessity  for  secluding  me  so  long. 
'But  of  course  I  shall  make  it  up  to  you.  You're  a  young 
man,  Mr.  Rolston,  only  just  commencing  your  career.  A 
little  capital  would  doubtless  assist  that  career,  in  which 
I  may  say  I  have  every  belief.  Shall  we  say  that  you  leave 
Richmond  this  afternoon  with  a  solatium  of  five  hundred 
pounds?" 

"  'A  thousand  would  suit  me  better,'  I  said. 

"He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  suddenly  smiled  at 
me. 

"  'Very  well,'  he  said,  'let  it  be  a  thousand  pounds.' 

"  'Of  course  without  prejudice,  Mr.  Morse.' 

"  'Please  explain  yourself.' 

"  'You've  kidnaped  me.  You've  also  committed  an  of- 
fense against  the  law  of  England — a  criminal  offense  for 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  123 

which  you  will  have  to  suffer.  Perhaps  you  don't  realize 
that  if  you  built  your  house  miles  further  up,  if  you  man- 
aged to  nearly  reach  the  moon,  British  justice  would  reach 
you  at  last.' 

"He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  'To  that  point  of  view,  I  hardly  agree,  Mr.  Rolston.  I 
am  quite  unable  to  purchase  British  justice,  but  I  can  put 
such  obstacles  in  its  way  that  could — ' 

"He  suddenly  stopped  there,  lit  a  little  brown  cigarette, 
came  up  and  patted  me  on  the  shoulder. 

"  'Child,'  he  said,  'you  are  clever,  you  are  original,  I 
like  you.  But  have  a  sense  of  proportion,  and  remember 
that  you  have  no  choice  in  this  matter.  I  will  give  you  the 
money  you  want  on  condition  that  you  go  away  and  bring 
no  action  whatever  against  me.    If  not — ' 

"  'If  not,  sir?' 

"  'Well,  you  will  have  to  stay  here,  that's  all.  You  won't 
be  badly  treated.  You  can  be  librarian  if  you  like,  but  you 
will  never  see  the  outside  world  again.' 

"  'May  I  have  a  few  hours  to  consider,  sir?' 

"  'A  month  if  you  like,'  he  said,  pressing  a  bell  upon  his 
table. 

"The  same  bland  young  Chinaman  led  me  out  of  the 
library  and  down  to  the  storeroom  in  the  lift.  I  was  blind- 
folded, and  descended  to  the  ground. 

"There  I  met  a  man  whom  I  had  seen  two  or  three  times 
during  the  last  three  days,  a  great  seven-foot  American 
with  arms  like  a  gorilla,  a  thing  called  'Boss  Mulligan,' 
whom  I  had  gathered  from  the  conversation  of  my  Chinese 


124  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

friends,  had  now  arrived  to  take  charge  of  the  whole  city — 
a  sort  of  head  policeman  and  guard. 

"  'Sonny,'  he  said,  'I've  had  a  'phone  down  from  the  top 
in  regard  to  you.  Now  don't  you  be  a  short  sport.  You've 
been  made  a  good  offer.  You  grip  it  and  be  like  fat  in 
lavender.  My  advice  to  you  is  to  wind  a  smile  round  your 
neck  and  depart  with  the  dollars.  I  can  see  you're  full  of 
pep  and  now  you've  got  fortune  before  you.  See  that 
pavilion  over  there?' 

"He  pointed  to  where  a  little  gaudily  painted  house 
nestled  under  one  of  the  great  feet  of  the  first  tower. 

"  'That's  my  mansion.  You  wander  about  for  an  hour 
or  so  and  come  there  and  say  you  agree  to  the  boss's  terms 
— we'll  take  your  word  for  it.  Upon  the  word  "Yes,"  I'll 
hand  you  out  at  the  gate  and  you  can  go  to  Paris  for  a 
trip.' 

"  'I'll  think  it  over,'  I  said. 

"  'Do  so,  and  don't  be  a  life-everlasting,  twenty-four- 
hours-a-day,  dyed-in-the-wool  damn  fool.' 

"It  was  getting  dusk.  I  was  in  a  new  part  of  the  inclosed 
park.  He  let  me  go  without  any  watchful  Chinese  attend- 
ant at  my  heels,  and  I  strolled  off  with  my  head  bent  down 
as  if  deep  in  thought. 

"I'd  got  an  hour,  and  I  think  I  made  the  best  use  of  it. 
I  hurried  along  under  the  shadow  of  the  towers,  past  shrub- 
beries, artificial  lakes,  summer-houses  and  little  inclosed 
rose-gardens  until  I  was  far  away  from  Mr.  Mulligan.  Here 
and  there  I  passed  a  patient  Chinese  gardener  or  some 
hurrying   member   of   Morse's   little  army.    But   nobody 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  125 

stopped  me  or  interfered  with  me.  For  the  first  time  since 
my  captivity  I  was  perfectly  free. 

"To  cut  a  long  story  short,  Sir  Thomas,  I  came  to  a 
rectangle  in  the  great  encircling  wall,  which  at  that  point 
was  thirty  feet  high.  The  parapet  at  the  top  was  obviously 
being  repaired,  for  there  was  a  ladder  right  up,  pails  of  mor- 
tar, bricklayers'  tools,  and  a  coil  of  rope  for  binding  scaf- 
folding. I  nipped  up  the  ladder,  carrying  the  rope  after 
me,  fixed  it  at  the  top,  slid  down  easily  enough,  and  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  was  in  Richmond  station.  I  didn't  dare 
to  go  back  to  my  old  rooms  because  I  was  sure  there  would 
be  a  secret  hue  and  cry  after  me.  I  thought  of  my  old 
friend,  Mr.  Sliddim,  traveled  to  Whitechapel  with  my  last 
pence,  and  here  I  am." 

"Still  a  member  of  my  staff?" 

"If  you  please,  Sir  Thomas." 

"Ready  for  anything?" 

"Anything  and  everjrthing." 

"Then  come  with  me  to  Piccadilly — if  they  look  for  you 
there  again  we  shall  be  prepared." 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

I  HAVE  to  tell  of  a  brief  interlude  before  I  got  to  work  in 
earnest. 

The  very  day  after  the  rediscovery  of  Rolston  I  fell  ill. 
The  strain  had  been  too  much,  a  severe  nervous  attack  was 
the  result,  and  my  vet.  ordered  me  to  the  quietest  watering- 
place  in  Brittany  that  I  could  find.  I  protested,  but  in 
vain.  The  big  man  told  me  what  would  happen  if  I  didn't 
go,  so  I  went,  faute-de-mieux,  and  took  Rolston  with  me. 

I  acquainted  Arthur  Winstanley  and  Pat  Moore  of  my 
movements  by  letter,  and  I  engaged  the  seedy  Mr.  Sliddim 
to  abide  permanently  in  Richmond  and  to  forward  me  a 
full  report  of  all  he  observed,  and  of  all  rumors,  connected 
with  the  City  in  the  Clouds.  When  I  had  subscribed  to 
a  press-cutting  agency  to  send  me  everything  that  appeared 
in  print  relating  to  Gideon  Morse  and  his  fantastic  home, 
I  felt  I  had  done  everything  possible  until  I  should  be  re- 
stored to  health. 

Of  my  month  in  Pont  Aven  I  shall  say  nothing  save 
that  I  lived  on  fine  Breton  fare,  walked  ten  miles  a  day, 
left  Rolston — who  proved  the  most  interesting  and  stimu- 
lating companion  a  man  could  have — to  answer  all  my  let- 
ters, and  went  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock  at  night. 

Heartache,  fear  for  Juanita,  occasional  fits  of  fury  at 
my  own  inaction  and  impotence?    Yes,  all  these  were  with 

126 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  127 

me  at  times.  But  I  crushed  them  down,  forced  myself  to 
think  as  little  as  possible  of  her,  in  order  that  when  once 
restored  to  health  and  full  command  of  my  nerves,  I  might 
begin  the  campaign  I  had  planned.  You  must  picture  me 
therefore,  one  afternoon  at  the  end  of  October,  arriving  from 
Paris  by  the  five  o'clock  train,  dispatching  Rolston  to  Pic- 
cadilly with  the  luggage,  and  driving  myself  to  Captain 
Moore's  quarters  at  Knightsbridge  Barracks. 

I  had  summoned  a  meeting  of  our  league,  which  we  had 
so  fancifully  named  "Santa  Hermandad" — a  fact  that  was 
to  have  future  consequences  which  none  of  us  ever  dreamed 
of — by  telegram  from  Paris. 

Pat  and  Arthur  were  awaiting  me  in  the  former's  com- 
fortable sitting-room,  A  warm  fire  burned  on  the  hearth 
as  we  sat  down  to  tea  and  anchovy  toast. 

I  had  been  in  more  or  less  frequent  communication  with 
both  of  them  during  my  sick  leave,  and  when  we  began 
to  discuss  the  situation  we  dispensed  with  preliminaries. 

It  was  Pat  who,  so  to  speak,  took  the  chair,  leaning 
against  an  old  Welsh  sideboard  of  oak,  crowded  with  polo 
and  shooting  cups,  shields  for  swordsmanship  and  other 
trophies. 

''Now,  you  two,"  he  said,  "we  know  certain  facts,  and 
we  have  arrived  at  certain  conclusions. 

"First  of  all,  as  to  the  facts.  Miss  Morse  is  as  good 
as  engaged  to  Tom  here.  Arthur  and  I  are  'also  ran,'  Fact 
number  one.  Fact  number  two,  she  has  been  suddenly 
and  forcibly  taken  away  from  the  world,  and  is  in  great 
distress  of  mind.    That  so,  brother  leaguers?" 


128  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

We  murmured  assent. 

"Now  for  our  deductions.  Morse,  divil  take  him!  has 
some  deadly  important  reason  for  this  fantastic,  spectacular 
show  of  his.  The  public  see  it  as  the  fancy  of  a  chap  who's 
so  much  money  he  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  a  fellow 
that's  exhausted  all  sensation  and  is  now  trying  for  a  new 
one.  Let  'em  think  so!  But  we  know — ^here  in  this  room — 
a  long  sight  more  than  the  general  public  knows.  Tom  and 
that  young  fly-by-night,  with  the  red  hair  and  the  stained- 
glass-window  ears,  he's  been  cartin'  about  with  him,  have 
got  behind  the  scenes." 

Pat's  face  hardened. 

"We  alone  are  certain  that  the  man  Morse,  for  all  his 
equanimity  and  the  mask  he  has  presented  to  London  dur- 
ing the  season,  has  been  living  under  the  influence  of  some 
dirty,  cowardly  fear  or  other!" 

Arthur  interrupted. 

"Fear,  if  you  like,  Pat,  but  I  don't  think  it  is  probably 
dirty,  or  even  cowardly.    You     .get  Miss  Morse." 

"Perhaps  you're  right.  At  any  rate,  if  Gideon  Morse 
is  really  menaced  by  some  great  danger,  what  cleverer  trick 
could  he  have  played?  To  let  the  world  suppose  that  it's 
his  whim  and  fancy  to  live  like  a  rook  at  the  top  of  an 
elm  tree,  when  all  the  time  he's  providing  against  the  pos- 
sibility of  annihilation,  that's  a  stroke  of  genius." 

"Good  for  you,  Pat,"  said  Arthur  with  a  wink  to  me, 
"you're  on  the  track  of  it." 

"Indeed,  and  I  think  I  am,"  said  the  big  guardsman  sim- 
ply, "and  here's  the  cunning  of  it,  the  supreme  sense  of 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  129 

self-preservation.  If  that  man  Morse  is  in  fear  of  his  life, 
and  in  fear  for  his  daughter's  too,  he  couldn't  have  in- 
vented a  more  perfect  security  than  he  has  done.  From 
all  we  know,  from  all  Tom  has  told  us,  no  one  can  get  at 
them  now  but  an  archangel!" 

Then  Arthiu:  spoke. 

"For  my  part,"  he  said,  "as  I'm  vowed  to  the  service, 
I'm  going  straight  to  Brazil  and  I'm  going  to  find  out  every- 
thing I  can  about  the  past  life  of  Gideon  Morse.  I  speak 
Spanish  as  you  know.  I  think  I'm  fairly  diplomatic,  and 
in  a  little  more  than  a  couple  of  months  I'll  return  with 
big  news,  if  I'm  not  very  much  mistaken.  And  there's 
always  the  cable  too.  We  are  pledged  to  Tom,  but  beyond 
that  we're  united  together  to  save  the  little  lady  from  evil 
or  from  harm.    To-morrow  I  sail  for  Rio." 

"And  I,"  I  said,  "have  already  made  my  plans.  To- 
morrow I  disappear  absolutely  from  ordinary  life.  Only 
two  people  in  London  will  know  where  I  am,  and  what  I 
am  doing — Preston,  my  servant  in  Piccadilly,  and  one  other 
whom  I  shall  appoint  at  the  offices  of  my  paper.  While 
Arthur  is  gathering  information  which  will  be  of  the  great- 
est use,  I  must  be  working  on  the  spot.  I  imagine  there 
isn't  much  time  to  lose." 

"And  what'll  I  do?"  asked  Pat  Moore. 

"You,  Pat,  will  stay  here,  lead  your  ordinary  life,  and 
hold  yourself  ready  for  anything  and  everything  when  I 
call  upon  you.  And  as  far  as  I  can  see,"  I  concluded, 
"there  will  be  a  very  pressing  necessity  for  your  help  be- 
fore much  more  water  has  flowed  under  Richmond  Bridge." 


130  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

There  was  an  end  of  talking;  we  were  all  in  deadly 
earnest.  We  grasped  hands,  arranged  a  system  of  commu- 
nication, and  then  I  and  Arthur  went  down  the  stone  steps, 
across  the  parade  ground,  and  said  good-by  at  Hyde  Park 
corner. 

"You—?"  he  said. 

"You  will  see  in  the  papers  that  Sir  Thomas  Kirby  is 
gone  for  a  voyage  round  the  world." 

"And  as  a  matter  of  fact?" 

"I  think  I  won't  give  you  any  details,  old  man.  My  plan 
is  a  very  odd  one  indeed.  You  wouldn't  quite  under- 
stand, and  you'd  think  it  extraordinary — as  indeed  it 
is." 

"It  can't  be  more  fantastic  than  the  whole  bitter  busi- 
ness," he  said,  and  his  voice  was  full  of  pain. 

I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  that  he  had  grown  older  in 
the  last  few  months.  The  boyishness  in  him  which  had 
been  one  of  his  charms,  was  passing  away  definitely  and 
forever.  He  was  hard  hit,  as  we  all  were,  and  I  reproached 
myself  for  my  egotism.  After  all,  if  there  was  any  hope 
at  all,  I  was  the  most  fortunate.  Arthur  and  stanch  old 
Pat  Moore  were  giving  up  their  time,  their  energies,  to 
bring  about  a  conclusion  from  which  I  alone  should  benefit. 

We  were  crossing  the  Green  Park  as  this  was  borne  in 
upon  me.  It  was  a  dull,  gray  afternoon,  rapidly  deaden- 
ing into  evening.  There  seemed  no  color  anywhere.  But 
when  I  thought  of  the  faithful,  uncomplaining,  even  joyous 
adherence  to  our  oath,  when  I  understood  for  the  first  time 
how  these  two  friends  of  mine  were  laboring  without  hope 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  131 

of  reward,  then  I  saw,  as  in  a  vision,  the  wonder  and  sacred- 
ness  of  unselfish  love. 

"Arthur,"  I  said,  as  we  were  about  to  part  at  Hyde  Park 
corner,  "God  forgive  me,  but  I  believe  your  love  for  her 
is  greater  than  mine." 

"Don't  say  that,  Tom.  When  we  threw  the  dice,  if 
the  Queen  had  come  to  me  you  would  be  doing  what  I  am 
doing  now,  or  what  Pat  is  ready  to  do." 

Well,  of  course,  that  was  true,  but  when  we  gripped 
hands  and  turned  our  backs  upon  each  other,  I  walked 
slowly  towards  my  flat  with  a  hanging  head. 

For  one  brief  moment  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  that 
love  which  Dante  speaks  of — that  love  "which  moves  earth 
and  all  the  stars" — and  in  the  presence  of  so  high  a  thing 
I  was  bowed  and  humbled. 

Let  me  also  be  worthy  of  such  company,  was  my  prayer. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  I  stood  in  my  bedroom 
with  Preston  in  attendance.  Preston's  face,  usually  a  well- 
bred  mask  which  showed  nothing  of  his  feelings,  was  gravely 
distressed. 

"Shall  I  do,  Preston?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  Sir  Thomas,  you'll  doy  he  said  regretfully,  "but  I 
must  say.  Sir  Thomas,  that — " 

"Shut  up,  Preston,  you've  said  quite  enough.  Am  I  the 
real  thing  or  not?" 

"Certainly  not,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said  with  spirit.  "How 
could  you  be  the  real  thing?  But  I'm  bound  to  say  you 
look  it." 


132  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"You  mean  that  your  experience  of  a  small  but  prosper- 
ous suburban  public-house,  visited  principally  by  small 
tradespeople,  leads  you  to  suppose  that  I  might  pass  very 
well  for  the  landlord  of  such  a  place?" 

"I  am  afraid  it  does.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  replied  with  a  gulp, 
as  I  surveyed  myself  once  more  in  the  long  mirror  of  my 
wardrobe  door. 

I  was  aboul  six  feet  high  in  my  boots,  fair,  with  a  ruddy 
countenance  and  somewhat  fleshy  face — not  gross  I  believe, 
but  generally  built  upon  a  generous  scale. 

That  morning  I  had  shaved  off  my  mustache,  had  my 
hair  arranged  in  a  new  way — that  is  to  say,  with  an  oily 
curl  draping  over  the  forehead — and  I  had  very  carefully 
penciled  some  minute  crimson  veins  upon  my  nose.  I 
ought  to  say  that  I  have  done  a  good  deal  of  amateur  act- 
ing in  my  time  and  am  more  or  less  familiar  with  the  con- 
tents of  the  make-up  box. 

[Note. — My  master,  Sir  Thomas  Kirby,  has  long  been 
known  as  one  of  the  handsomest  gentlemen  in  society.  He 
has  a  full  face  certainly,  but  entirely  suited  to  his  build 
and  physical  development.  Of  course,  when  he  shaved  off 
a  mustache  that  was  a  model  of  such  adornments,  it  did 
alter  his  appearance  considerably. — ^Henry  Preston.] 

Instead  of  the  high  collar  of  use  and  wont,  I  wore  a  low 
one,  permanently  attached  to  what  I  believe  is  known  as 
a  "dicky" — that  is  to  say,  a  false  shirt  front  which  reaches 
but  little  lower  than  the  opening  of  the  waistcoat.  My  tie 
was  a  made-up  four-in-hand  of  crimson  satin — not  too  new. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  133 

my  suit  of  very  serviceable  check  with  large  side-pockets, 
purchased  second-hand,  together  with  other  oddments,  from 
a  shop  in  Covent  Garden.  I  also  wore  a  large  and  massive 
gold  watch-chain,  and  a  diamond  ring  upon  the  little  fin- 
ger of  my  right  hand. 

That  was  all,  yet  I  swear  not  one  of  my  friends  would 
have  known  me,  and  what  was  more  important  still,  I  was 
typical  without  having  overdone  it.  No  one  in  London, 
meeting  me  in  the  street,  would  have  turned  to  look  twice 
at  me.  You  could  not  say  I  was  really  disguised — in  the 
true  meaning  of  the  word — and  yet  I  was  certainly  entirely 
transformed,  and  with  my  cropped  hair,  except  for  the 
"quiff"  in  front,  I  looked  as  blatant  and  genial  a  bounder 
as  ever  served  a  pint  of  "sixes." 

Preston  had  left  the  room  for  a  moment  and  now  came 
back  to  say  that  Mr.  W.  W.  Power  had  arrived, 

W.  W.  Power  was  the  youngest  partner  in  a  celebrated 
firm  of  solicitors,  Power,  Davids  and  Power — a  firm  that 
has  acted  for  my  father  and  myself  for  more  years  than 
I  can  remember. 

Under  his  somewhat  effeminate  exterior  and  a  languid 
manner,  young  Power  is  one  of  the  sharpest  and  cleverest 
fellows  I  know,  and,  what's  .more,  one  that  can  keep  his 
mouth  shut  under  any  circumstances. 

I  went  into  the  dining-room,  hoping  to  make  him  start. 
Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  merely  put  up  his  eyeglass  and  said 
laconically:  "You'll  do,  Sir  Thomas" — not  more  than  two 
years  ago  he  had  been  an  under-graduate  at  Cambridge! 

"You  think  so,  Power?" 


134  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

He  nodded  and  looked  at  his  watch. 

"All  right  then,  we'll  be  off,"  I  said,  and  Preston  called 
a  taxi,  on  which  were  piled  a  large  brass-bound  trunk  and 
a  shabby  portmanteau — also  recent  purchases,  and  with  the 
name  H.  Thomas  painted  boldly  upon  them.  Preston's 
Christian  name  by  the  way  is  Henry  and  I  had  borrowed 
it  for  the  occasion. 

I  got  into  the  cab  with  a  curious  sensation  that  some 
one  might  be  looking  on  and  discover  me.  Power  seated 
himself  by  my  side  with  no  indication  of  thought  at  all, 
and  we  rolled  away  westward. 

"Nothing  remains,"  he  said,  "but  to  complete  the  docu- 
ments of  sale.  Everything  is  ready,  and  I  have  the  money 
in  notes  in  my  pocket.  The  solicitor  of  the  retiring  pro- 
prietor will  be  in  attendance,  and  the  whole  thing  won't 
take  more  than  twenty  minutes.  Newby,  the  present  man, 
will  then  step  out  and  leave  you  in  undisturbed  possession." 

"Very  good,  Power,  and  thank  you  for  your  negotiations. 
Seven  thousand  pounds  seems  a  lot  of  money  for  a  little 
hole  like  that." 

"It  isn't  really.  You  see  the  place  is  freehold  and  the 
house  is  free  also.  It's  not  under  the  dominion  of  any 
brewer,  and  when  your  purpose  in  being  there  is  over,  I'll 
guarantee  to  sell  it  again  for  the  same  money,  probably  a 
few  hundreds  more.    As  an  investment  it's  sound  enough." 

He  relapsed  into  silence  and  we  rattled  through  Ham- 
mersmith on  our  way  to  Richmond.  I  was  curious  about 
this  imperturbable  young  man,  whom  I  knew  rather  well. 

"Aren't  you  curious.  Power,"  I  said,  "to  know  why  I'm 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  135 

doing  this  extraordinary,  unprecedented  thing?  I  can  trust 
you  absolutely  I  know,  but  haven't  you  asked  yourself  what 
the  deuce  I'm  up  to?" 

He  favored  me  with  a  pale  smile. 

"My  dear  Sir  Thomas,"  he  replied,  "if  you  only  knew 
what  extraordinary  things  society  people  do  do,  if  you 
knew  a  tenth  of  what  a  solicitor  in  my  sort  of  practice 
knows,  you  wouldn't  think  there  was  anything  particularly 
strange  in  your  little  freak." 

Confound  the  cub!  I  could  have  punched  him  in  the 
jaw.  I  knew  his  assurance  was  all  pose.  Still  it  was 
admirable  in  its  way  and  I  burst  into  hearty  laughter. 

I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Master  Power's  cheeks 
faintly  tinged  with  pink! 

On  the  slope  of  the  hill,  at  what  one  might  describe  as 
the  back  of  the  high  wall  which  inclosed  the  grounds  at 
the  foot  of  the  three  towers — that  is  to  say,  it  was  exactly 
opposite  the  great  central  entrance,  and  I  suppose  nearly 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  it  if  one  drew  a  straight  line  from 
one  to  the  other — was  a  crowded  huddle  of  mean  streets. 
It  was  not  in  any  sense  a  slum — nothing  so  picturesque — 
small,  drab,  shabby,  and  respectable.  In  the  center  of  this 
area  was  a  fair-sized,  but  old-fashioned,  public-house,  known 
as  the  "Golden  Swan."  This  was  our  destination,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  more  we  had  climbed  the  hill  and  the  taxi 
stood  at  rest  before  a  side  door. 

Opening  it  we  entered.  Power  leading  the  way,  and  as 
v/e  approached  some  stairs  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  little 
plush-furnished  bar  to  the  left,  where  I  could  have  sworn 


136  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

I  saw  the  melanclioly  Sliddim  in  company  with  a  pewter 
pot. 

We  waited  for  a  moment  or  two  in  a  long  upstairs  room. 
The  walls  were  covered  with  beasts,  birds,  and  fishes,  in 
glass  cases,  all  of  which  looked  as  if  they  ought  to  be  de- 
cently buried.  Upon  one  wall  was  an  immense  engraving 
framed  in  boxwood  of  the  execution  of  Mary,  Queen  of 
Scots,  and  upon  a  huge  mahogany  sideboard  which  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  built  to  resist  a  cavalry  charge,  was  a 
tray  with  hospitable  bottles. 

Then  the  door  opened  and  a  dapper  little  man  with  side 
whiskers,  the  vendor's  solicitor,  came  in,  accompanied  by 
Mr.  Newby,  the  retiring  landlord  himself. 

Mr.  Newby,  dressed  I  was  glad  to  notice,  very  much 
as  myself,  only  the  diamond  ring  upon  his  finger  was  rather 
larger,  was  a  short,  fat  man  of  benevolent  aspect,  and  I 
should  say  suffering  from  dropsy.    We  shook  hands  heartily. 

"Thirty  years  have  I  been  landlord  here,"  wheezed  Mr. 
Newby,  "and  now  it's  time  the  'ouse  was  in  younger  'ands. 
Your  respectability  'as  been  vouched  for,  Mr.  Thomas — I 
wouldn't  sell  to  no  low  blackguard  for  twice  the  money — 
and  all  I  can  say  is,  young  feller,  for  you  are  a  young  feller 
to  me,  you  know — I  'ope  you'll  be  as  'appy  and  prosperous 
in  the  'Golden  Swan'  as  Emanuel  Newby  'ave  been." 

I  thought  it  was  best  to  be  a  little  awkward  and  bashful, 
so  I  said  very  little  while  the  lawyers  fussed  about  with 
title  deeds,  and  'at  last  the  eventful  moment  came  when 
one  does  that  conjuring  trick  in  which  the  gentlemen  of 
the  law  take  such  infantile  delight.  'Tut  your  finger  here, 
yes,  on  this  red  seal  and  say  .  .  ." 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  137 

When  it  was  all  done  and  Mr.  Newby  had  stowed  away 
seven  thousand  pounds  in  bank-notes  in  a  receptacle  over 
his  heart,  we  drank  to  the  occasion  in  some  remarkably 
good  champagne  and  then,  v/ith  a  sigh,  the  ex-proprietor 
announced  his  intention  of  being  off. 

''My  luggage  has  preceded  me,"  he  said,  "and  I  have 
nothing  to  do  now  but  retire,  as  I  'ave  long  planned,  to  the 
city  of  my  birth." 

"And  where  may  that  be,  Mr.  Newby?"  I  asked  po- 
litely. 

"The  University  City  of  Oxford,"  he  replied,  "which,  if 
you've  not  known  intimate  as  I  'ave,  you  can  never  begin 
to  understand.  There's  an  atmosphere  there,  Mr.  Thomas, 
but  Lord,  you  won't  be  interested!"  and  he  wheezed 
superior. 

The  situation  was  not  without  humor. 

When  he  had  gone,  together  with  his  solicitor,  Power 
rang  the  bell. 

"As  you  wish  me  to  manage  everything  for  you,"  he  said, 
"I  have  done  so.  Your  entire  ignorance  of  the  liquor  trade 
will  be  compensated  by  the  knowledge  and  devotion  of  the 
assistant  I  have  procured  for  you,  after  many  inquiries. 
His  name  is  Whistlecraft,  and  he  is  an  Honest  Fool.  He 
won't  rob  you,  though  he'll  probably  diminish  your  profits 
greatly  by  his  stupidity — but  as  I  understand,  profit  from 
the  sale  of  drinks  isn't  your  object.  He  will  obey  orders 
implicitly,  without  even  trying  to  understand  their  reason, 
and  in  short  you  couldn't  have  a  better  man  for  your 
purpose." 

When   Whistlecraft   appeared   I  perfectly  agreed  with 


138  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Power.  He  was  a  powerful  fellow  in  shirt  sleeves,  aged 
about  thirty-five,  with  arms  that  could  have  felled  an  ox. 
Had  he  shaved  within  the  last  three  days  he  would  have 
been  clean  shaved,  and  his  hair  was  polished  to  a  mirror- 
like surface  with  suet — I  caught  him  doing  it  one  day.  I 
never  saw  such  calm  on  any  human  face.  It  was  the  tran- 
quillity of  an  entire  absence  of  intellect,  a  rich  and  per- 
fect stupidity  which  nothing  could  penetrate,  nothing  dis- 
turb. His  eyes  were  dull  as  unclean  pewter,  without  life 
or  speculation,  and  I  knew  at  once  that  if  I  told  him  to 
go  down  into  the  cellar,  wait  there  till  a  hyena  entered, 
strangle  it,  skin  it,  and  bring  the  pelt  upstairs  to  me,  he 
would  depart  upon  his  errand  without  a  word! 

Power  went  away  with  the  most  conventional  of  hand- 
shakes— we  might  have  been  parting  in  Pall  Mall — and  I 
was  left  alone,  monarch  of  all  I  surveyed. 

"What's  the  staff  beside  you,  Whistlecraft?"  I  asked. 

"Mrs.  Abbs,  sir,  cooks  and  sweeps  up,  sleeps  out.  Peter, 
the  odd-job  boy,  washes  bottles  and  such,  and  that's 
all." 

"Then  at  closing  time,  you  and  I  are  left  alone  in  the 
house?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

There  was  a  loud  and  impatient  knocking  from  some- 
where below. 

"I'd  better  go  and  serve,  sir,  hadn't  I?"  said  Whistle- 
craft — I  found  later  his  name  was  Stanley — and  I  let  him 
go  at  that. 

I  spent   the  next  hour   going  over   the  premises  from 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  139 

cellar  to  roof  and  making  many  mental  notes,  for  I  had 
come  here  with  a  definite  purpose,  and  plans  already 
made. 

It  was  an  extraordinary  situation  to  be  in.  I  sat  in  a 
little  private  room  behind  the  bar  and  every  now  and  again 
Stanley's  idiot  countenance  appeared,  and  I  had  to  go  be- 
hind the  counter  and  be  introduced  to  this  or  that  regular 
frequenter.  I  asked  every  one  to  have  a  drink,  for  the  good 
of  the  house,  and  trust  I  made  a  fair  impression.  They 
all  seemed  quiet,  respectable  people  enough,  who  knew  each 
other  well. 

In  the  evening  I  was  greatly  helped  by  Sliddim,  who  was 
now  a  seasoned  habitue  of  the  "Golden  Swan,"  and  whom 
from  the  moment  of  my  arrival  slipped  into  the  position  of 
Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  which  saved  me  a  great  deal  of 
trouble. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  all  the  time  that  I  was  in 
Brittany,  Sliddim  had  been  employed  in  my  interests  at 
Richmond,  Bill  Rolston  vouched  absolutely  for  the  man's 
fidelity:  had  told  me  I  could  safely  trust  him  in  any  way. 
Accordingly,  there  was  perhaps  a  little  misgiving,  I  had 
released  him  from  his  employment  at  the  third-class  de- 
tective agency  where  he  worked,  and  took  him  permanently 
into  my  service.  I  may  say  at  once,  though  he  took  no 
prominent  part  in  the  great  events  which  followed  until 
the  very  end,  he  was  of  considerable  use  to  me  and  kept  my 
secrets  perfectly. 

At  closing  time  that  night,  Mrs.  Abbs,  the  cook,  having 
spread  a  hot  supper  in  the  private  room  behind  the  bar 


I40  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

and  left,  I  called  the  potman  in  from  his  washing-up  of 
glass  and  bade  him  share  the  meal. 

"Now  I  tell  you  what,  Stanley,"  I  said,  when  we  had 
filled  our  pipes,  "in  the  tower  inclosure  there's  a  whole 
colony  of  Chinks,  isn't  there?" 

"Yes,  sir;  gardeners,  stokers  for  the  engines  and  such  like. 
They  say  as  there  isn't  a  white  man  among  'em,  except 
only  the  boss,  and  he's  an  Irishman." 

"They  don't  always  live  inside  that  wall?"  I  jerked  my 
head  towards  a  window  which  looked  out  into  my  back 
yard,  not  a  hundred  feet  away  from  the  towering  preci- 
pice of  brick  which  overshadowed  the  "Golden  Swan,"  and 
the  surrounding  houses. 

"Oh,  not  by  no  means.  They  comes  out  when  their 
work's  done  in  the  evenings,  though  they  goes  back  to  sleep 
and  has  to  be  in  by  a  certain  time.  They  do  say,"  and 
here  something  happened  to  Stanley's  face  which  I  after- 
wards grew  to  recognize  as  a  smile,  "they  do  say  as  some 
of  the  girls  downtown  are  takin'  up  with  'em,  seein'  as  they 
dress  well,  and  spend  a  lot  of  money." 

"I  suppose  they  have  somewhere  where  they  go?" 

"It's  mostly  the  'Rising  Sun'  down  by  the  station,  I  am 
told.  The  boss  there  was  a  sailor  and  understands  their 
ways.    He's  given  them  a  room  to  themselves." 

I  was  perfectly  aware  of  all  this,  but  I  had  a  special 
motive  for  the  present  conversation. 

"Now,  it's  come  into  my  mind,"  I  said,  "that  there's 
a  lot  of  custom  going  downtown  that  ought  by  rights  to 
come  to  the  'Golden  Swan,'  seeing  that  we  are  close  at  the 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  141 

gates,  so  to  speak,  and  I  mean  to  do  what  I  can  to  get 
hold  of  it.  A  Chink's  money  is  as  good  as  anybody  else's, 
Stanley,  that's  my  way  of  looking  at  it." 

He  chewed  the  cud  of  that  idea  for  a  minute  or  two 
and  then  it  dawned  in  the  pudding  of  his  mind. 

"Why,  yes,"  he  said,  in  the  voice  of  one  who  had  made 
a  great  discovery. 

"Now,  there's  that  room  upstairs,"  I  went  on,  "I  shall 
never  use  it.  If  we  could  get  some  of  these  Chinks  to  drop 
in  there  of  a  night  it  would  be  good  business." 

"There's  just  one  thing  against  it,"  said  Stanley,  "if 
you'll  pardon  my  speaking  of  it,  sir.  I'm  willing  to  do 
everything  in  reason,  and  I'm  not  afraid  of  work.  But 
I  don't  see  as  'ow  I  can  attend  to  both  the  saloon  and 
the  four-ale  bars  if  I'm  to  be  going  upstairs  slinging  drinks 
to  the  Chinks." 

"Of  course  you  can't  and  I  wasn't  going  to  suggest  it. 
We  must  get  an  extra  help — if  we  can  get  the  Chinks  to 
use  the  house.    We  might  have  a  barmaid." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"It  wouldn't  work,  sir;  you'd  have  to  get  a  new  one 
every  week.  A  young  woman  can't  resist  a  Chink  and 
they'd  marry  off  like — " 

Stanley  was  unable  to  think  of  a  simile  so  he  buried  his 
face  in  his  pewter  pot. 

Really  things  were  going  very  well  for  me. 

"I  believe  you  are  right.  Supposing  I  could  get  a  young 
fellow  who  was  one  of  themselves  and  could  speak  their 
lingo.    There  are  lots  to  be  picked  up  about  the  docks. 


142  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

I  mean  some  quiet  young  Chink,  who  would  attend  to  his 
fellow-countrymen  in  the  evening,  and  relieve  you  of  a  lot 
of  the  washing-up  and  things  of  that  sort  during  the  day?" 

Mr.  Stanley  Whistlecraft  was  not  so  stupid  as  to  miss 
the  advantages  of  such  a  proposal  as  this. 

"You've  'it  on  the  very  plan,  sir,"  he  said,  "and  especial 
if  he  could  wash  up  them  thin  glasses  which  the  gentle- 
men in  the  saloon  bar  like  to  'ave,  it  would  be  a  great 
saving.  I  never  could  'andle  them  things  properly.  You 
put  your  fingers  on  'em  and  they  crack  worse  than  eggs. 
Pewters,  I  can  polish  with  any  man  alive,  pot  mugs  seldom 
break,  as  likewise  them  thick  reputed  half-pints  which  will 
break  a  man's  'ed  open,  as  I've  proved.  But  these  Chinks 
are  as  'andy  as  any  girl,  and  I  think,  sir,  you've  got  'old  of 
an  idea." 

"I'll  see  about  it  in  the  morning.  I've  got  a  pal  that 
has  a  nice  little  house  in  the  Mile  End  Road,  and  I  believe 
he  could  send  me  just  the  lad  I  want.  Well,  now  you  can 
go  to  bed,  Stanley.    Everything  locked  up?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  I'll  put  out  the  lights." 

He  bade  me  a  gruff  good-night  and  lurched  heavily  away. 
I  heard  him  ascending  the  stairs  to  his  room  at  the  back 
of  the  house  and  then  I  was  left  alone. 

The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  turn  down  the  sleeves  of 
my  shirt  and  put  on  my  coat.  It  isn't  etiquette  to  sup  in 
your  coat,  I  had  gathered  from  Mr.  Whistlecraft's  custom 
when  he  accepted  my  invitation. 

Then  I  unlocked  a  drawer  in  which  was  a  box  of  cigars 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  143 

such  as  the  "Golden  Swan"  had  never  known,  and  stretch- 
ing out  my  legs,  stared  into  the  fire. 

I  was  doing  the  wildest,  maddest  thing,  but  so  far  all 
had  gone  well.  I  was,  as  it  were,  a  solitary  swimmer  in 
deep  and  dangerous  waters,  on  the  threshold  of  experiences 
which  I  knew  instinctively  would  transcend  all  those  of 
ordinary  life.  I  was  perfectly  certain,  something  in  my 
inmost  soul  told  me,  that  I  was  about  to  step  into  un- 
known perils,  and  to  contend  with  bizarre  and  sinister  forces 
of  which  I  had  no  means  of  measuring  the  power  or  extent. 

I  don't  mind  admitting  that  on  that  first  night  in  the 
"Golden  Swan,"  fate  weighed  heavily  on  me  and  I  thought 
I  heard  the  muffled  laughter  of  malignant  things. 

However,  I  was  in  for  it  now.  I  finished  my  cigar,  went 
into  the  bar  and  selected  a  certain  bottle  of  whisky — the 
excellent  Stanley  had  warned  me  that  this  was  the  land- 
lord's bottle  and  of  a  much  more  reputable  quality  than 
that  served  to  the  landlord's  guests.  After  a  very  moderate 
"nightcap"  I  put  on  carpet  slippers  and  went  up  to  my 
room,  which  I  had  chosen  at  the  very  top  of  the  house.  It 
was  a  large  attic,  just  under  the  roof,  and  in  a  few  days 
I  proposed  to  make  it  more  habitable  with  some  new  furni- 
ture and  decoration.  Meanwhile,  I  had  chosen  it  because, 
in  one  corner,  some  wooden  steps  went  up  to  a  trap-door 
which  opened  on  to  the  roof,  where  there  was  a  flat  space 
of  some  three  yards  square  among  the  chimneys.  Just  be- 
fore going  up  to  bed  I  turned  up  the  collar  of  my  dressing- 
gown,  ascended  the  ladder,  pushed  open  the  trap-door  and 
stepped  out  on  to  the  leads. 


144  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  ■ 

It  was  a  still,  moonlight  night.  Looking  over  the  roofs 
of  the  houses  I  could  see  the  Thames  winding  like  a  silver 
ribbon  far  down  below,  a  scene  of  utter  tranquillity  and 
peace. 

Then  I  wheeled  round  to  be  confronted  with  the  great 
black  wall  which  rose  several  yards  above  me,  within  a 
pistol  shot  of  distance. 

But  my  eye  traveled  up  beyond  that  and  was  caught  in 
a  colossal  network  of  steel,  so  bold,  towering  and  gigantic 
in  its  nearness  that  it  almost  made  me  reel.  I  stared  up 
among  the  dark  shadows  and  moonlit  spaces  till  my  eye 
reached  an  altitude  which  I  knew  to  be  about  the  height 
of  the  Golden  Ball  on  the  top  of  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral. 

There  the  vision  checked.  I  could  see  a  blurr  of  low 
buildings,  a  web  of  latticed  galleries,  and  I  knew  that  I 
was  looking  only  up  at  the  very  first  stage  of  the  City  in 
the  Clouds,  which  must  be  lying  bare  to  the  moon  some  six- 
teen hundred  feet  above. 

I  could  see  no  more.  The  first  stage  barred  all  further 
vision,  though  that  in  itself  seemed  terrible  in  its  height 
and  majesty.  So  I  closed  my  eyes  and  imagined  only  those 
supreme  heights  where  she  must  be  sleeping. 

"Good-night,  Juanita,"  I  murmured,  and  then,  as  I  de- 
scended into  my  room  the  words  of  the  Psalmist  came  to 
m.e  and  I  said,  "Oh,  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove!" 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  the  potman  summoned 
me  from  my  private  room  with  the  information  that  there 
was  a  young  fellow  from  the  Mile  End  Road  to  see  me. 

"Chinese?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  it  must  be  the  lad  come  in  answer  to  the  tele- 
gram I  sent  to  my  friend  this  morning.    Show  him  in." 

In  a  few  moments  the  applicant  for  the  situation  entered. 
He  wore  his  oily  black  hair  fairly  short,  like  most  of  the 
Chinamen  employed  at  the  towers,  and  had  no  pigtail;  he 
was  dressed  in  European  clothes.  His  high  cheek  bones, 
with  little  slits  of  eyes  above  them,  the  stolid  yellow  face 
and  fine  tapering  fingers  were  typically  Oriental  as  he  glided 
in,  and  his  European  clothes  seemed  to  accentuate  that  air 
of  Eastern  mystery  that  even  the  commonest  Chinaman 
carries  about  with  him.  He  looked  about  five  or  six  and 
twenty  and  wore  a  thick  gold  ring  in  each  ear  which  had 
had  the  effect  of  dragging  them  away  from  the  head. 

I  examined  him  carefully  as  to  his  qualities  and  he 
answered  in  better  English  than  most  Chinamen  attain  to, 
though  with  the  guttural,  clicking  accent  of  his  kind. 

"Take  him  and  let  him  wash  up  a  few  of  the  glasses, 
Stanley,  and  ask  him  a  few  questions  if  you  like,  and  if 
you  are  satisfied  with  him  I'll  engage  him." 

145 


146  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  Honest  Fool  returned  to 
express  himself  pleased  with  the  young  Asiatic's  perform- 
ances, and  there  and  then  I  engaged  him,  Stanley  showing 
him  the  room  in  which  he  was  to  sleep.  It  was  quite  late 
that  night  before  I  could  be  alone  with  the  new  assistant, 
who,  by  the  way,  served  in  the  saloon  bar  during  the  eve- 
ning and  was  spoken  of  with  commendation  by  Mr.  Carter, 
fish  and  green  grocer;  Mr,  Mogridge,  our  principal  news- 
agent and  tobacconist,  and  Mr.  Abrahams,  dealer  in  any- 
thing, whose  shop  was  labeled — really  with  great  propriety 
— "Antiques." 

These  gentlemen  were  my  most  constant  patrons  and 
their  word  had  weight,  and  it  was  endorsed  by  Mr.  Slid- 
dim,  who  slipped  in  about  nine  and  in  the  position  of  a 
friend  of  the  landlord,  had  been  received  into  our  best  circle. 
It  was  Mr.  Mogridge,  a  wit,  who,  just  before  closing  time, 
christened  Ah  Sing,  the  name  of  the  new  potman,  "Ting- 
A-Ling-A-Ling,"  the  name  which  he  retained  to  the  end 
of  the  chapter.  I  could  hear  my  clients  laughing  for  the 
twentieth  time  as  they  went  home  and  Mr.  Carter's  rich 
bass:  "Mogridge,  I  call  that  good.  That's  damned  good, 
Mogridge.    Ting-A-Ling-A-Ling!    Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!" 

Ah  Sing  glided  into  my  private  room  just  as  the  upper 
portion  of  the  house  began  to  tremble  with  the  snores  of 
the  Honest  Fool.  He  put  his  fingers  into  his  mouth  and 
vnthdrew  two  pads  of  composition  such  as  dentists  use, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief.  Immediately  the  high  cheek  bones 
and  the  narrowness  of  the  eyes  disappeared,  though  even 
then  Bill  Rolston  would  have  passed  for  a  Chinaman  at  a 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  147 

glance,  though  when  he  removed  the  quills  from  his  nose 
and  it  ceased  to  be  flat  and  distended,  the  likeness  was  less 
apparent. 

"It's  wonderful,  Rolston,"  I  said,  shaking  him  warmly 
by  the  hand.  "It  would  deceive  any  one.  Well,  here  we 
are  and  now  we  can  begin." 

The  lad  was  all  fire  and  enthusiasm.  He  did  me  no 
end  of  good,  for  the  sordid  environment,  the  appalling 
meals — principally  of  pork  served  in  great  gobbets  with 
quantities  of  onions — which  Mrs.  Abbs  provided  for  the 
H.F.,  herself  and  me,  and  above  all  the  overpowering, 
incredible  structure  at  hand  which  seemed,  in  its  strength 
and  majesty,  to  laugh  at  the  ant-like  activities  of  such  an 
one  as  I,  were  beginning  to  depress  and  to  tinge  my  hours 
■with  the  quality  of  a  fantastic  dream. 

But  Rolston  changed  all  that  and  we  talked  far  on  into 
the  night,  planning,  plotting,  and  arranging  all  the  details 
of  our  campaign. 

"To-morrow,"  he  said,  "I'll  paint  the  board  to  go  over 
the  side  door,  in  black  and  gilt  Chinese  lettering.  As  soon 
as  it's  done,  we  will  make  one  or  two  alterations  to  the 
upstairs  room,  buy  a  gas  urn  with  constant  hot  water  and 
some  special  tea  which  I  know  where  to  get.  When  that's 
done,  I'll  start  the  game  by  going  down  to  the  'Rising  Sun' 
and  meeting  the  Chinese  there." 

"You  are  quite  certain  that  you  won't  be  discovered?" 

"I  think  it's  in  the  last  degree  improbable.  Certainly 
no  one  could  find  me  out  owing  to  my  speech.  That  I  can 
assure  you.  Sir  Thomas,  and  it's  nearly  all  the  battle.    So 


148  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

very,  very  few  Europeans  ever  attain  to  good  colloquial 
Chinese  that  there  would  never  be  a  doubt  in  any  one 
but  I  was  what  I  seemed  to  be.  I  not  only  know  the  lan- 
guage, but  I  know  how  these  people  think  and  most  of 
their  customs.  As  far  as  disguise  goes,  I  think  it's  good 
enough  to  deceive  any  one.  When  I  was  a  prisoner  within 
the  inclosure,  the  Chinese  who  saw  me  were  for  the  most 
part  coolies  and  laborers,  engaged  upon  the  works.  All  these 
have  now  gone  away  forever  and  there's  only  the  regular, 
selected  staff.  Some  of  these  of  course  must  have  seen  me 
as  I  was,  but  I  don't  think  they  will  penetrate  my  get-up. 
You  see  the  whole  shape  of  the  face  is  altered  to  begin  with, 
and  the  coloring  of  hair  and  face  has  been  done  so  well  as 
to  defy  detection.  I  certainly  was  afraid  about  my  ears," 
and  he  grinned  ruefully,  *'but  I  saw  the  way  out  by  having 
them  pierced  and  these  rings  put  in.  Most  of  the  natives 
from  the  Province  of  Yiin-Nan,  where  I  come  from,  wear 
these  rings.  The  ones  I  have  on  at  the  present  moment 
are  made  of  lead,  and  gilded.  They  have  pulled  my  ears 
right  out  of  their  ordinary  shape." 

"Good  Lord!"  I  cried,  astounded  at  the  length  to  which 
he  had  gone.    "You're  torturing  yourself  for  me." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  replied.  "I — I  rather 
like  it!" 

"And  you  think  you  will  be  able  to  get  us  a  Chinese 
clientele?" 

"I  am  quite  certain  of  it.  First  of  all  I  don't  suppose 
I  shall  get  the  best  class — I  mean  the  upper  and  more  con- 
fidential servants  who  ascend  the  tower  itself — for  I  un- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  149 

derstand  there's  a  very  rigid  system  of  grades.  But  little 
by  little  they  will  come  also.  It  will  take  us  weeks,  maybe 
months,  but  it  will  be  done." 

"If  it  takes  me  half  a  lifetime  I'll  go  through  with  it," 
I  said  savagely, 

"My  sentiments,  also,"  he  replied,  lighting  a  cigarette. 
"By  the  way,  I  hope  you're  not  incommoded  in  any  way 
by  my — er — odor!" 

"Good  Heaven!    What  do  you  mean?" 

"The  Chinaman  smells  quite  different  to  the  European, 
though  not  necessarily  impleasantly.  It's  taken  me  quite 
a  lot  of  trouble  to  attain  the  essential  perfume!" 

He  grinned  impishly  as  he  said  it,  and  there  certainly 
was  a  sort  of  stale,  camphory  smell,  now  he  mentioned  it. 

"You're  a  great  artist,  Rolston,  and  I  don't  know  what 
I  should  do  without  you,  oh.  Mandarin  from  Yiin-Nan!" 

"That's  another  point,"  he  said  quickly,  "You  wouldn't 
guess  why  I'm  supposed  to  come  from  Yiin-Nan,  where  I 
actually  did  spend  some  years  of  my  childhood?" 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"It's  the  principal  opium  producing  Province  in  China," 
he  replied,  with  a  quick  look  at  me.  "Now,  Sir  Thomas, 
I've  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag.  You  see  how  I  propose  to 
attract  the  Chinese  here,  and  get  into  their  confidence," 

A  light  flashed  in  upon  me,  and  I  took  a  long  breath. 

"But  it  would  never  do,"  I  said,  "If  we  were  to  start 
an  opium  den  in  that  room  upstairs,  we  should  have  the 
police  in  in  a  fortnight,  and  then  the  game  would  be  up 
entirely." 


150  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

He  smiled  superior. 

"There  will  never  be  a  single  pipe  of  opium  smoked  in 
the  'Golden  Swan,'  "  he  said.  "Of  that  I  can  assure  you. 
That  will  be  the  very  strictest  rule  that  I  shall  make,  but 
I  shall  supply  opium  to  the  customers,  in  varying  quanti- 
ties, and  at  intervals,  according  to  the  need  of  each  indi- 
vidual case.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  bribe  a  Chinaman 
with  money — the  better  sort,  that  is,  the  picked  and  chosen 
men  who  will  be  around  Mr.  Morse  himself.  But  opium 
is  quite  another  thing,  and  besides  they  won't  know  they're 
being  bribed.  I  sat  hours  and  hours  working  this  thing 
out  and  I'm  confident  it's  the  only  way." 

When  he  said  that  I  realized  that  he  spoke  the  truth, 
but  I  confess  that  the  idea  startled  and  alarmed  me. 

"We  shall  be  breaking  the  law,  Rolston.  We  shall  be 
risking  heavy  fines  and  certain  imprisonment  if  we're  found 
out." 

"To  that  I  would  say  two  things.  Sir  Thomas.  First 
of  all,  that  no  fine  matters;  and  secondly,  that  I  shouldn't 
in  the  least  mind  doing  six  months  if  necessary.  This  great 
game  is  worth  more  than  that.  But  secondly,  and  you  may 
really  put  your  mind  at  ease,  we  shall  not  be  found  out. 
I  have  worked  the  thing  out  to  a  hair's  breadth  and  my 
system  is  so  complete  that  discovery  is  utterly  impossible." 

"I  oughtn't  to  let  you  risk  it,  though  of  course  I  shall 
share  equally  if  anything  happens." 

He  disregarded  this  entirely. 

"But  the  stuff,"  I  said,  "the  opium  itself,  how  will  you 
get  that?" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  151 

"I  have  made  my  plans  here  also.  I  shall  have  to  pay 
a  price  so  enormous  that  I'm  afraid  it  will  stagger  you, 
Sir  Thomas,  but  it's  the  only  way  in  which  I  can  get  hold 
of  the  right  stuff.  For  what  it  is  intrinsically  worth,  about 
sixty  pounds  sterling,  your  east-end  dealer  will  pay  four- 
hundred  pounds,  and  make  a  big  profit  on  it.  I  shall  have 
to  pay  nearly  a  thousand  and  I  shall  want  double  that  money 
— two  thousand  pounds." 

He  stared  at  me  in  anxiety. 

"My  dear  Rolston,"  I  said,  "cheer  up.  My  income  is 
over  twenty  thousand  a  year,  and  in  normal  times  I  don't 
spend  a  third  of  it.  Buy  all  the  filth  you  want,  and 
Heaven  send  that  it  does  the  trick!" 

"In  two  days,"  he  said,  "the  'Golden  Swan'  will  house 
two  cases  of  the  best  'red  bricks'  obtainable  on  the  market 
anywhere,  for  it's  as  much  by  the  superior  quality  of  what 
I  shall  supply,  as  well  as  the  fact  of  being  able  to  supply 
it,  that  I  depend.  Of  course,  you'll  get  nearly  all  the 
money  back." 

"Confound  it,  no,  that's  going  too  far.  We'll  send  all 
the  abominable  profits  to  the  Richmond  Hospital  anony- 
mously." 

We  talked  until  the  fire  was  out  and  the  gray  wintry 
dawn  began  to  steal  in  through  the  dirty  windows  of  the 
bar  beyond,  and  when  all  our  plans  were  laid  with  meticu- 
lous care  I  went  to  bed  but  not  to  sleep,  assailed  by  a 
thousand  doubts  and  fears. 

...  In  a  week  or  two  the  upstairs  room  began  to  be  fre- 
quented by  silent-footed  yellow  men,  who  came  and  went 


152  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

unobtrusively.  Whenever  any  of  them  chanced  to  meet 
me  I  was  greeted  with  a  profound  obeisance  which  was 
rather  disconcerting  at  first,  but  my  conversation  was  lim- 
ited to  a  mere  greeting  or  farewell.  Most  of  these  men 
spoke  pigeon  English,  but  I  had  little  or  nothing  to  say  to 
them  of  set  purpose.  It  had  been  arranged  between  Rol- 
ston  and  myself  that  I  was  to  be  represented  as  a  good- 
natured  fool,  who  mattered  very  little  in  any  way. 

For  his  part,  the  pretended  Ah  Sing  was  up  and  down 
the  stairs  a  dozen  times  every  evening.  He  was  never 
once  suspected,  his  influence  and  importance  in  the  lives 
of  these  aliens  grew  every  day.  But  it  was  a  long  business, 
a  long  and  weary  business,  in  which  at  first  hardly  any 
progress  towards  our  aim  could  be  discerned. 

"It's  no  use  being  discouraged.  Sir  Thomas,"  Rolston 
would  say,  "we're  getting  on  famously." 

"And  the  opium?" — somehow  I  wasn't  very  keen  on  dis- 
cussing that  aspect  of  the  question. 

"I'm  employing  it  most  judiciously,  selling  it  in  very 
small  quantities,  and  of  course  not  a  grain  is  ever  smoked 
or  consumed  in  any  way  upon  these  premises.  That's  thor- 
oughly understood  by  every  one,  and  you  need  not  have 
the  slightest  doubt  but  that  the  secret  will  be  rigidly  kept. 
At  present  the  men  frequenting  the  house  are  nearly  all  of 
the  upper  coolie  class.  That  is  to  say,  they  are  the  gar- 
deners, stokers  of  the  power  house,  sweepers,  and  so  forth. 
But,  quite  recently  a  better  class  of  man  has  made  his 
appearance.  There's  a  young,  semi-Europeanized  electrician 
who  has  been  once  or  twice.    Moreover,  I  have  gained  a 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  153 

great  point.  I  have  become  acquainted  with  Kwang-su, 
the  keeper  of  the  inclosure  gate." 

"That's  certainly  something,"  I  replied,  recalling  the 
figure  of  the  gigantic  Chinaman  in  question,  which  was 
familiar  to  most  of  the  residents  beneath  the  wall.  "He's  a 
ferocious-looking  brute." 

"At  one  time  he  was  headsman  of  Yangtsun,  and  they  say 
a  most  finished  expert  with  the  sword,"  Rolston  remarked 
with  a  grin.  "All  I  know  about  him  is  that  he'd  sell  his 
soul  for  the  black  smoke,  and  regards  me  as  a  most  valu- 
able addition  to  the  neighborhood.  In  a  fortnight  or  so, 
I  am  pretty  certain  I  shall  be  able  to  pass  in  and  out  of 
the  grounds  pretty  much  as  I  like,  and  then  a  great  move 
in  our  game  will  have  been  accomplished.  As  an  undoubted 
Chinaman  and  as  a  confidential  purveyer  of  opium,  I  shall 
soon  have  complete  freedom  below  the  towers." 

"But  what  about  the  great  prizefighter,  Mulligan?" 

"He  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  park,  as  they  call  all 
the  grounds  around  the  towers.  Now  that  the  building  is 
finished  his  functions  are  up  in  the  air,  and  I  gather  that 
he  lives  on  the  third  stage,  just  beneath  the  City  itself, 
as  a  sort  of  watch-dog.  The  Asiatics  are  entirely  managed 
by  their  own  leaders,  appointed  by  Morse  himself." 

It  was  as  Bill  predicted.  In  a  very  short  space  of  time 
he  was  away  from  the  "Golden  Swan"  as  much  as  he  was 
in  it,  and  every  day  he  gathered  more  and  more  informa- 
tion about  the  tower  and  its  mistress — information  which 
was  carefully  noted  down  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  so 
that  no  detail  should  be  forgotten. 


154  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Of  course  the  fact  that  my  hotel  had  become  a  haunt 
of  the  yellow  men  neither  escaped  the  notice  of  the  neigh- 
bors, nor  of  the  police.  The  former  were  easily  dealt  with, 
and  especially  my  patrons.  Mr.  Mogridge,  having  invented 
'Ting-A-Ling-A-Ling,"  was  disposed  to  look  upon  the 
"Chinks"  with  genial  patronage,  and  his  self-importance 
was  gratified  by  the  low  bows  with  which  they  always 
greeted  him  as  they  passed  to  their  club-room  above.  The 
lead  of  Mr.  Mogridge  was  followed  by  others  in  the  saloon 
bar,  and  Sliddim  tactfully  kept  everything  running  smoothly. 
As  for  the  police,  they  paid  me  one  visit  or  two,  were 
shown  everything  and  were  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  house 
was  being  conducted  with  propriety — as  indeed  it  was. 

The  yellow  men  neither  gambled  nor  got  drunk,  that  was 
perfectly  obvious.  There  was  never  a  suspicion  of  opium 
from  first  to  last,  nor  was  there  a  single  instance  of  a  brawl 
or  a  fight.  Indeed  the  local  police-inspector,  an  excellent 
fellow  with  whom  I  had  many  a  talk,  expressed  himself 
as  being  both  surprised  and  delighted  at  the  way  in  which 
I  had  the  aliens  in  hand. 

Nearly  two  months  had  gone  by,  and  I  was  curbing  the 
raging  fires  of  impatience  and  longing  as  well  as  I  could 
when  two  incidents  occurred  which  greatly  precipitated 
action. 

Rolston  came  to  me  one  day  in  a  state  of  great  excite- 
ment. 

At  last,  he  said,  he  was  beginning  to  become  acquainted 
with  some  of  the  actual  officials  of  the  towers — at  last, 
quite  separate  from  those  who  worked  below.  They  were 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  155 

interested,  or  beginning  to  be  so,  and  he  urged  me  at  once 
to  open  a  smaller,  inner  room  as  a  select  meeting-place  for 
such  of  them  as  he  could  inveigle  to  the  "Golden  Swan." 

We  did  so  at  once,  hanging  the  walls  with  a  drapery  of 
black  worked  with  golden  dragons,  which  I  bought  in  Regent 
Street,  a  Chinese  lantern  of  copper  hanging  from  the  ceil- 
ing, and  around  the  wall  we  placed  low  couches.  Here,  in 
twos  and  threes,  but  in  slowly  increasing  numbers,  a  dif- 
ferent type  of  Oriental  began  to  assemble,  Ah  Sing  attend- 
ing to  all  their  wants,  ingratiating  himself  in  every  possible 
way,  and  keeping  his  extremely  useful  ears  wide  open — 
very  wide  open  indeed. 

It  was  now  that  tiny  fragments  of  personal  gossip — more 
precious  to  me  than  rubies — began  to  filter  through.  I  had 
established  no  communication  with  the  City  in  the  Clouds  as 
yet,  but  I  seemed  to  hear  the  distant  murmur  of  voices 
through  the  void. 

One  evening  about  eight  o'clock  I  felt  cramped  and  un- 
utterably bored.  I  felt  that  nothing  could  help  me  but 
a  long  walk  and  so,  with  a  word  to  the  Honest  Fool,  Slid- 
dim  and  Rolston,  I  took  my  hat  and  stick  and  started  out. 

It  was  a  brilliant  moonlight  night,  calm,  still,  and  with 
a  white  frost  upon  the  ground,  as  I  descended  the  terrace 
and  made  my  way  down  to  the  side  of  the  river.  Here 
and  there  I  passed  a  few  courting  couples;  the  hum  of 
distant  London  and  the  rumbling  of  trains  was  like  the 
ground  swell  of  a  sea,  but  peace  brooded  over  everything. 
The  trees  made  black  shadows  like  Chinese  ink  upon  silver, 
and,  in  the  full  moonlight  it  was  bright  enough  to  read. 


156  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

When  I  had  walked  a  mile  or  so,  resisting  a  certain  temp- 
tation as  well  as  I  could,  I  stopped  and  turned  at  last. 

There,  a  mile  away  behind  me,  yet  seeming  as  if  it  was 
within  a  stone's  throw,  was  the  huge  erection  on  the  hill. 
Every  detail  of  the  lower  parts  was  clear  and  distinct  as  an 
architectural  drawing,  the  intricate  lattice-work  of  enormous 
cantilevers  and  girders  seemed  etched  on  the  inside  of  a 
great  opal  bowl.  I  can  give  you  no  adequate  description 
of  the  immensity,  the  awe-inspiring,  almost  terror-inducing 
sense  of  magnitude  and  majesty.  I  have  stood  beside  the 
Pyramids  at  night,  I  have  crossed  the  Piazza  of  Saint 
Peter's  at  Rome  under  the  rays  of  the  Italian  moon,  and 
I  have  drunk  coffee  at  the  base  of  the  Eiffel  Tower  in  Paris, 
but  not  one  of  these  experiences  approached  what  I  felt 
now  as  I  surveyed,  in  an  ecstasy  of  mingled  emotions,  this 
monstrous  thing  that  brooded  over  London. 

The  eye  traveled  up,  onward  and  forever  up  until  at 
length,  not  hidden  by  clouds  now  but  a  faint  blur  of  white, 
blue,  gold,  and  tiny  twinkling  lights,  hung  in  the  empyrean 
the  far-off  City  of  Desire. 

Could  she  hear  the  call  of  my  heart?  God  knows  it 
seemed  loud  and  strong  enough  to  me!  Might  she  not 
be,  even  at  this  moment,  a  lovelier  Juliet,  leaning  over  some 
gilded  gallery  and  wondering  where  I  was? 

"Was  ever  a  woman  so  high  above  her  lover  before?" 
I  said,  and  laughed,  but  my  laughter  was  sadness,  and  my 
longing,  pain  unbearable. 

.  .  .  There  was  a  slight  bend  in  the  tow-path  where  I 
stood,  caused  by  some  out-jutting  trees,  and  from  just 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  i57 

below  I  suddenly  heard  a  burst  of  loud  and  brutal  laughter, 
followed  by  a  shrill  cry.  It  recalled  me  from  dreamland 
at  once  and  I  hurried  round  the  projection  to  come  upon 
a  strange  scene.  Two  flash  young  bullies  with  spotted 
handkerchiefs  around  their  throats  and  ash  sticks  in  their 
hands  were  menacing  a  third  person  whose  back  was  to  the 
river.  They  were  sawing  the  air  with  their  sticks  just  in 
front  of  a  thin,  tall  figure  dressed  in  what  seemed  to  be  a 
sort  of  long,  buttoned  black  cassock  descending  to  the  feet, 
and  wearing  a  skull  cap  of  black  alpaca.  Beneath  the  skull 
cap  was  a  thin,  ascetic  face,  ghastly  yellow  in  the  moon- 
light. 

.  .  .  One  of  the  brutes  lunged  at  the  man  I  now  saw 
to  be  a  Chinese  of  some  consequence,  lunged  at  him  with 
a  brutal  laugh  and  filthy  oath.  The  Chinaman  threw  up  his 
lean  arms,  cried  out  again  in  a  thin,  shrill  scream,  stepped 
backwards,  missed  his  footing  and  went  souse  into  the  river. 
In  a  second  the  current  caught  him  and  began  to  whirl 
him  away  over  towards  the  Twickenham  side.  It  was  obvi- 
ous that  he  could  not  swim  a  stroke.  There  was  a  clatter 
of  hob-nailed  boots  and  bully  number  one  was  legging  it 
down  the  path  like  a  hare.  I  had  just  time  to  give  bully 
number  two  a  straight  left  on  the  nap  which  sent  him 
down  like  a  sack  of  flour,  before  I  got  my  coat  off  and 
dived  in. 

Wow!  but  it  was  icy  cold.  For  a  moment  the  shock 
seemed  to  stop  my  heart,  and  then  it  came  right  again 
and  I  struck  out  heartily.  It  didn't  take  long  to  catch 
up  with  the  gentleman  in  the  cassock,  who  had  come  up 


158  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

for  the  second  time  and  apparently  resigned  himself  to 
the  worst.  I  got  hold  of  him,  turned  on  my  back  and 
prepared  for  stern  measures  if  he  should  attempt  to  grip  me. 

He  didn't.  He  was  the  easiest  johnny  to  rescue  possible, 
and  in  another  five  minutes  I'd  got  him  safely  to  the  bank 
and  scrambled  up. 

There  was  nobody  about,  worse  luck,  and  I  started  to 
pump  the  water  out  of  him  as  well  as  I  could,  and  after 
a  few  minutes  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  his  face  turn 
from  blue-gray  to  something  like  its  normal  yellow  under 
the  somewhat  ghastly  light  of  the  moon.  His  teeth  began 
to  chatter  as  I  jerked  him  to  his  feet  and  furiously  rubbed 
him  up  and  down. 

I  tried  to  recall  what  I  knew  of  pigeon  English. 

"Bad  man  throw  you  in  river.  You  velly  lucky,  man 
come  by  save  you,  Johnny." 

I  had  the  shock  of  my  life. 

"I  am  indeed  fortunate,"  came  in  a  thin,  reed-like  voice, 
"I  am  indeed  fortunate  in  having  found  so  brave  a  pre- 
server. Honorable  sir,  from  this  moment  my  life  is 
yours." 

"Why,  you  speak  perfect  English,"  I  said  in  amazement. 

"I  have  been  resident  in  this  country  for  some  time,  sir," 
he  replied,  "as  a  student  at  King's  College,  until  I  under- 
took my  present  work." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "we'd  better  not  stand  here  exchanging 
polite  remarks  much  longer.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  pneu- 
monia, which  you  would  do  well  to  avoid.  If  you're  strong 
enough,  we'll  hurry  up  to  the  terrace  and  find  my  house, 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  159 

where  we'll  get  you  dry  and  warm.  I'm  the  landlord  of 
the  'Golden  Swan'  Hotel." 

He  was  a  polite  fellow,  this.  He  bowed  profoundly,  and 
then,  as  the  water  dripped  from  his  black  and  meager  form, 
he  said  something  rather  extraordinary. 

"I  should  never  have  thought  it." 

I  cursed  myself.  The  excitement  had  made  me  return 
to  the  manner  of  Piccadilly,  and  this  shrewd  observer  had 
seen  it  in  a  moment.  I  said  no  more,  but  took  him  by  the 
arm  and  yanked  him  along  for  one  of  the  fastest  miles  he 
had  ever  done  in  his  life. 

I  took  him  to  the  side  door  of  my  pub.  Fortunately 
Ah  Sing  w^as  descending  the  stairs  to  replenish  an  empty 
decanter  with  whisky — my  yellow  gentlemen  used  to  like 
it  in  their  tea!  I  explained  what  had  happened  in  a  few 
words  and  my  shivering  derelict  was  hurried  upstairs  to 
my  own  bedroom.  I  don't  know  what  Rolston  did  to  him, 
though  I  heard  Sliddim — now  quite  the  house  cat — directed 
to  run  down  into  the  kitchen  and  confer  with  Mrs.  Abbs. 

For  my  part,  I  sat  in  the  room  behind  the  bar,  listen- 
ing to  the  Honest  Fool  talking  with  my  patrons,  and  shed 
my  clothes  before  a  blazing  fire.  A  little  hot  rum,  a  change, 
and  a  dressing-gown,  and  I  was  myself  again,  and  smoking 
a  pipe  I  fell  into  a  sort  of  dream. 

It  was  a  pleasant  dream.  I  suppose  the  shock  of  the 
swim,  the  race  up  the  terrace  to  the  "Swan,"  the  rum  and 
milk  which  followed  had  a  soporific,  soothing  effect.  I 
wasn't  exactly  asleep,  I  was  pleasantly  drowsed,  and  I  had 
a  sort  of  feeling  that  something  was  going  to  happen.    Just 


i6o  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

about  closing  time  Rolston  glided  in — I  never  saw  a  Euro- 
pean before  or  since  who  could  so  perfectly  imitate  the 
ghost  walk  of  the  yellow  men. 

I  looked  to  see  that  the  door  to  the  bar  was  shut. 

"Well,  how's  our  friend?"  I  asked. 

"He's  had  a  big  shock,  Sir  Thomas,  but  he's  all  right 
now.  I've  rubbed  him  all  over  with  oil,  fed  him  up  with 
beef-tea  and  brandy  and  found  him  dry  clothes." 

"He's  from  the  towers,  of  course?" 

As  I  said  this,  I  saw  Bill  Rolston's  face,  beneath  its  yel- 
low dye,  was  blazing  with  excitement. 

"Sir  Thomas,"  he  said  in  a  whisper,  "this  is  Pu-Yi  him- 
self, Mr.  Morse's  Chinese  secretary,  a  man  utterly  differ- 
ent from  the  others  we  have  seen  here  yet.  He's  of  the 
Mandarin  class,  the  buttons  on  his  robe  are  of  red  coral. 
In  this  house,  at  this  moment,  we  have  one  of  the  masters 
of  the  Secret  City." 

I  gave  a  long,  low  whistle,  which — I  remember  it  so  well 
— exactly  coincided  with  the  raucous  shout  of  the  Honest 
Fool — "Time,  gentlemen,  please!" 

A  thought  struck  me. 

"The  other  Chinese  in  the  large  and  small  rooms,  do 
they  know  this  man  is  here?" 

"No,  Sir  Thomas ;  I  am  more  than  glad  to  say  I  got  him 
up  to  your  own  room  when  both  doors  were  closed." 

"What's  he  doing  now?" 

"He's  having  a  little  sleep.  I  promised  to  call  him  in 
an  hour  or  so,  when  he  wishes  to  pay  you  his  respects." 

He  listened  for  a  moment. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  i6i 

"The  others  are  going  downstairs,"  he  said.  "I  must 
be  there  to  see  them  out,  and  I  have  one  or  two  little 
transactions — " 

He  felt  in  a  villainous  side  pocket  and  I  knew  as  well 
as  possible  what  it  contained,  and  what  would  be  handed 
to  one  or  two  of  the  moon-faced  gentlemen  as  they  slipped 
out  of  the  side  door  on  their  way  home. 

Bill  came  back  in  some  twenty  minutes. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "I'm  going  upstairs  to  wake  Pu-Yi  and 
bring  him  down  to  you.  You  must  remember.  Sir  Thomas, 
that  I  am  only  a  dirty  little  servant.  I  am  as  far  beneath 
a  man  like  Pu-Yi  as  Sir  Thomas  Kirby  is  above  Stanley 
Whistlecraft,  so  I  cannot  be  present  at  your  interview. 
My  idea  was  that  I  should  creep  into  the  bar — Stanley 
will  have  had  his  supper  and  gone  to  bed — and  lie  down 
on  the  floor  with  my  ear  to  the  bottom  of  the  door,  then 
I  can  hear  everything." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  I  said,  for  I  was  beginning  to 
realize  what  an  enormous  lot  might  depend  upon  this  inter- 
view.   Then  I  thought  of  something  else. 

"Look  here,  Bill,  you  must  remember  this  too.  I  fished 
the  blighter  out  of  the  Thames  and  no  doubt  he  will  be 
thankful  in  his  overdone,  Oriental  fashion.  But  to  him,  a 
man  of  the  class  you  say  he  is,  I  shall  be  nothing  but  a 
vulgar  publican,  and  I  don't  see  quite  what's  going  to  come 
out  of  that!" 

He  had  slipped  the  gutta-percha  pads  out  of  his  cheeks 
— an  operation  to  which  I  had  grown  quite  accustomed — 
and  I  could  see  his  face  as  it  really  was. 


i62  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"That's  occurred  to  me  also,"  he  replied,  "but  somehow 
or  other  I'm  sure  the  fates  are  on  our  side  to-night." 

He  arose,  turned  away  for  a  moment,  there  was  a  click 
and  a  gasp,  and  he  was  the  little  impassive  Oriental  again. 
He  glided  up  to  me,  put  his  yellow  hand  with  the  long, 
polished  finger  nails  upon  my  shoulder,  and  said  in  my  ear: 

"Sir  Thomas,  he  must  see  Her  every  day!" 

He  vanished  from  the  room  almost  as  he  spoke,  and  left 
me  with  blood  on  fire. 

I  was  to  see  some  one  who  might  have  spoken  with 
Juanita  that  very  day!  and  I  sat  almost  trembling  with 
impatience,  though  issuing  a  dozen  warnings  to  myself  to 
betray  nothing,  to  keep  every  sense  alert,  so  that  I  might 
turn  the  interview  to  my  own  advantage. 

At  last  there  was  a  knock  on  the  door.  Bill  opened  it 
and  the  slim  figure  of  the  man  I  had  rescued  glided  in. 
They  had  dried  his  clothes,  he  even  wore  his  little  skull 
cap  which  had  apparently  stuck  to  his  head  while  he  was 
in  the  water,  and  I  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  him  in 
the  light  for  the  first  time. 

Instead  of  the  flat,  Tartar  nose,  I  saw  one  boldly  aquiline, 
with  large,  narrow  nostrils.  His  eyes  were  almond  shaped 
but  lustrous  and  full  of  fire.  About  the  lips,  which  had 
no  trace  of  sensuality  but  were  beautifully  cut,  there  was 
a  kind  of  serene  pathos — I  find  it  difficult  to  describe  in  any 
other  way.  The  whole  face  was  noble  in  contour  and  in 
expression,  though  the  general  impression  it  gave  was  one 
of  unutterable  sadness.     Dress  him  how  you  might,  meet 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  163 

him  where  you  would,  there  was  no  possibility  of  mistaking 
Pu-Yi  for  anything  but  a  gentleman  of  high  degree. 

The  door  closed  and  I  rose  from  my  seat  and  held  out 
my  hand. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "this  is  a  bit  of  orlright,  sir,  and  I'm  glad 
to  see  you  so  well  recovered.  To-morrow  morning  we'll 
have  the  law  on  them  dirty  rascals  that  assaulted  you." 

I  put  on  the  accent  thickly — flashed  my  diamond  ring  at 
him,  in  short — for  this  might  well  be  a  game  of  touch  and 
go,  and  I  had  a  deep  secret  to  preserve. 

He  put  his  long,  thin  hand  in  mine,  gripped  it,  and  then 
suddenly  turned  it  over  so  that  the  backs  of  my  fingers  were 
uppermost. 

It  was  an  odd  thing  to  do  and  I  wondered  what  it  meant. 

"Oh,  landlord  of  the  Swan  of  Gold,"  he  piped,  in  his 
curious,  flute-like  voice,  sorting  out  his  words  as  he  went 
on,  "I  owe  you  my  unworthy  life,  which  is  nothing  in  itself 
and  which  I  don't  value,  save  only  for  a  certain  oppor- 
tunity which  remains  to  it,  and  is  a  private  matter.  But 
I  owe  my  life  to  your  courage  and  strength  and  flowering 
kindness,  and  I  come  to  put  myself  in  your  hands." 

Really  he  was  making  a  damn  lot  of  fuss  about  nothing! 

"Look  here,"  I  said,  "that's  all  right.  You  would  have 
done  as  much  for  me.  Now  let's  sit  down  and  have  a  peg 
and  a  chat.  I  can  put  you  up  for  the  rest  of  the  night, 
you  know,  and  I  shall  be  awfully  glad  to  do  it." 

He  looked  as  if  he  was  going  to  make  more  speeches, 
but  I  cut  him  short. 


i64  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"As  for  putting  your  life  in  my  hands,"  I  said,  "we  don't 
talk  like  that  in  England." 

He  sat  down  and  a  faint  smile  came  upon  his  tired  lips. 

"And  do  the  public-house  keepers  in  England  have  hands 
such  as  yours  are?"  he  said  gently.  "Sir,  your  hands  are 
white,  they  are  also  shaped  in  a  certain  way,  and  your  nails 
are  not  even  in  mourning  for  your  profession!" 

I  cujsed  myself  savagely  as  he  mocked  me.  Bill  had 
pointed  out  over  and  over  again  that  I  oughtn't  to  use  a 
nail  brush  too  frequently — it  wasn't  in  the  part — but  I 
always  forgot  it. 

To  hide  my  confusion  I  moved  a  little  table  towards 
him  on  which  was  a  box  of  excellent  cigarettes.  Unfor- 
tunately, also  on  the  table  was  a  little  pocket  edition  of 
Shakespeare  with  which  I  used  to  solace  the  drab  hours. 

He  picked  it  up,  opened  it  plump  at  "Romeo  and  Juliet" 
— the  play  which,  for  reasons  known  to  you,  I  most  affected 
at  the  time — and  looked  up  at  me  with  gentle  eyes. 

"  'Two  households,  both  alike  in  dignity,  in  fair  Verona,'  " 
he  said. 

My  brain  was  working  like  a  mill.  I  could  not  make 
the  fellow  out.  What  did  he  know,  what  did  he  suspect? 
Well,  the  best  thing  was  to  ask  him  outright. 

"You  mean?" 

He  became  distressed  at  once. 

"You  speak  harshly  to  me,  O  my  preserver.  I  meant 
but  that  I  knew  at  once  that  you  are  not  born  in  the 
position  in  which  I  see  you.  Perhaps  you  will  give  me 
your  kind  leave  to  explain.     In  my  native  country  I  am 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  165 

of  high  hereditary  rank,  though  I  am  poor  enough  and 
occupy  a  somewhat  menial  position  here.  My  honorable 
name,  honorable  sir,  is  Pu-Yi,  which  will  convey  nothing 
to  you.  During  the  rebellion  of  twenty  years  ago  in  China, 
my  ancestral  house  was  destroyed  and  as  a  child  I  was 
rescued  and  sent  to  Europe.  For  many  years  the  peasants 
of  my  Province  scraped  their  little  earnings  together,  and 
a  sum  sufficient  to  support  me  in  my  studies  was  sent  to 
me  in  Paris.  I  speak  the  French,  Spanish  and  English 
languages.  I  am  a  Bachelor  of  Science  of  the  London  Uni- 
versity, and  my  one  hope  and  aim  in  life  is,  and  has  been, 
to  acquire  sufficient  money  to  return  to  the  tombs  of  my 
ancestors  on  the  banks  of  the  Yang-tse-kiang,  there  to  live 
a  quiet  life,  much  resembling  that  of  an  English  country 
squire,  until  I  also  fade  away  into  the  unknown,  and  be- 
come part  of  the  Absolute." 

There  was  something  perfectly  charming  about  him. 
Since  he  spotted  I  wasn't  a  second  edition  of  the  Honest 
Fool,  since  he  had  somehow  or  other  divined  that  I  was 
an  educated  man,  I  felt  drawn  to  him.  You  must  remem- 
ber that  for  months  now  the  only  person  I  had  had  to  talk 
to  was  Bill  Rolston.  And  all  the  time,  he  was  so  occu- 
pied in  our  tortuous  campaign  that  we  only  met  late  at 
night  to  report  progress. 

For  a  moment  I  quite  forgot  what  this  new  friend  might 
mean  to  me,  and  opened  out  to  him  without  a  thought  of 
further  advantage. 

I  was  a  fool,  no  doubt.  Afterwards,  talking  it  all  over 
with  Pat  Moore  and  Arthur  Winstanley,  I  saw  that  I  ran  a 


i66  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

great  risk.  Anyhow,  I  reciprocated  Pu-Yi's  confidence  as 
well  as  I  could. 

"I'm  awfully  glad  we've  met,  even  under  such  unfortu- 
nate circumstances.  You  are  quite  right.  I  come  of  a 
different  class  from  what  the  ordinary  frequenter  of  this 
hotel  might  suppose,  but  since  you  have  discovered  it  I 
beg  you  to  keep  it  entirely  to  yourself.  I  also  have  had 
my  misfortunes.  Perhaps  I  also  am  longing  for  some  ulti- 
mate happiness  or  triumph." 

Out  of  the  box  he  took  a  cigarette,  and  his  long,  delicate 
fingers  played  with  it. 

"Brother,"  he  said,  "I  understand,  and  I  say  again, 
now  that  I  can  say  it  in  a  new  voice,  my  life  is  yours." 

Then  I  began  on  my  own  account. 

"Tell  me,"  I  said,  "of  yourself.  Many  of  your  fellow- 
countrymen  come  here — the  lower  orders — and  they're  all 
employed  by  the  millionaire,  Gideon  Morse,  who  seems  to 
prefer  the  men  of  China  to  any  other.  You  also,  Pu-Yi,  are 
connected  with  this  colossal  mystery?" 

He  didn't  answer  for  a  moment,  but  looked  down  at  the 
glowing  end  of  his  cigarette. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  with  some  constraint,  "I  am  in  the 
service  of  the  honorable  Mr.  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse.  I 
am,  in  fact,  his  private  secretary  and  through  me  his  in- 
structions are  conveyed  to  the  various  heads  of  depart- 
ments." 

"You  are  fortunate.  I  suppose  that  before  long  you 
will  be  able  to  fulfill  your  ambitions  and  retire  to  China?" 

With  a  quick  glance  at  me  he  admitted  that  this  was  so. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  167 

"And  yet,"  I  said  thoughtfully,  "it  must  be  a  very  try- 
ing service,  despite  that  you  live  in  Wonderland,  in  a  City 
of  Enchantment." 

Again  I  caught  a  swift  regard  and  he  leant  forward  in 
his  chair. 

''Why  do  you  say  that?"  he  asked. 

I  hazarded  a  bold  shot, 

"Simply  because  the  man  is  mad,"  I  said. 

His  bright  eyes  narrowed  to  glittering  slits. 

"You  quote  gossip  of  the  newspapers,"  he  replied. 

"Do  I?  I  happen  to  know  more  than  the  newspapers 
do." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  took  two  steps  towards  me,  and  looked 
down  with  a  twitching  face. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  said,  and  his  whole  frail  frame 
trembled. 

I  caught  him  firmly  by  the  arm  and  stared  into  his  face 
— God  knows  what  my  own  was  like. 

"I  am  the  one  who  has  been  waiting,  the  one  who  is 
waiting,  to  help — the  one  who  has  come  to  save,"  I  said,  and 
my  voice  was  not  my  own — it  was  as  if  the  words  were 
put  into  my  mouth  by  an  outside  power. 

He  wrenched  his  arm  away,  gave  a  little  cry,  strode  to 
the  mantelpiece  and  bent  his  head  upon  his  arms.  His 
whole  body  was  shaken  with  convulsive  sobs. 

I  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  watching  him,  hardly 
daring  to  breathe,  feeling  that  my  heart  was  swelling  until 
it  occupied  the  whole  of  my  body. 

At  length  he  looked  up. 


i68  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"Then  I  shall  be  of  some  use  to  Her  after  all,"  he  said. 
"This  is  too  much  honor.    The  Lily  of  White  Jade — " 

He  staggered  back,  his  face  working  terribly,  and  fell 
in  a  huddled  heap  upon  the  floor.  I  was  just  opening  my 
mouth  to  call  for  Rolston  when  there  came  a  thunderous 
knocking  upon  the  side  door  of  the  house. 

I  ran  into  the  dimly  lit  passage  and  as  I  did  so  Rolston 
flitted  out  of  the  bar  door  and  stood  beside  me. 

"I  have  heard  everything,"  he  whispered,  "but  what,  what 
is  this?" 

He  pointed  to  the  door,  and  as  he  did  so  there  was 
again  the  thunder  of  the  knocker  and  the  whirr  of  the 
electric  bell. 

Hardly  knowing  what  I  did  I  shot  back  the  bolts  at 
top  and  bottom,  turned  the  heavy  key  in  its  lock  and 
opened  the  door. 

Outside  in  the  moonlight  a  figure  was  standing,  a  man 
in  a  heavy  fur  coat,  carrying  a  suitcase  in  his  left  hand. 

"What  the  devil — "  I  was  beginning,  when  he  pushed 
past  me  and  came  into  the  hall. 

Then  I  saw,  with  a  leap  of  all  my  pulses,  that  it  was 
Lord  Arthur  Winstanley. 


CHAPTER   NINE 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  A  bitter  wind  had 
risen  and  was  wailing  around  the  ''Golden  Swan,"  inter- 
spersed with  heavy  storms  of  hail  which  rattled  on  roof 
and  windows.  Outside  the  tempest  shrieked  and  was  ac- 
companied by  a  vast,  humming,  harp-like  noise  as  it  flung 
itself  against  the  lattice-work  of  the  towers  and  vibrated 
over  Richmond  like  a  chorus  of  giant  ^olian  harps.  Arthur 
and  I  sat  in  the  shabby  sitting-room,  which  had  been  the 
theater  of  so  much  emotion  that  night,  and  stared  at  each 
other  with  troubled  faces. 

There  was  a  little  pattering  noise,  and  Bill  Rolston  came 
in,  closing  the  door  carefully  behind  him. 

"He  wants  you  to  go  up  to  him,  Sir  Thomas.  You  told 
me  to  use  my  own  discretion.  Since  we  carried  him  up 
and  I  gave  him  the  bromides,  I  haven't  left  his  bedside. 
I  talked  to  him  in  his  own  language,  but  he  wouldn't  say 
a  word  until  I  threw  off  every  disguise  and  told  him  who 
I  really  was  and  who  you  were  also." 

"But,  Rolston,  you  may  have  spoiled  everything!" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"You  don't  know  what  I  know.  Now  that  he's  aware 
you  are  of  his  own  rank,  and  that  I  am  your  lieutenant, 
his  life  is  absolutely  your  forfeit.  If  you  were  to  tell  him 
to  commit  suicide  he  would  do  it  at  once  as  the  most 

169 


I70  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

natural  thing  in  the  world,  to  preserve  his  honor.  He  is 
your  man  from  this  moment,  Sir  Thomas,  just  as  I  am." 

"Then  I'll  go  up.    Arthur,  you  don't  mind?" 

"Mind!  I  thought  I  brought  a  bomb-shell  into  your 
house  to-night,  and  so  I  have  too,  but  to  find  all  this  going 
on  simply  robs  me  of  speech.  Meanwhile,  if  you  will  intro- 
duce me  to  this  Asiatic  gentleman  who  speaks  such  excel- 
lent English,  and  whom,  from  repute  I  guess  to  be  Mr. 
William  Rolston,  I  daresay  we  can  amuse  ourselves  during 
the  remainder  of  this  astonishing  night.  And,"  he  con- 
tinued, "if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  ham  upon  the  prem- 
ises, some  thick  slices  grilled  upon  this  excellent  fire,  and 
some  cool  ale  in  a  pewter — " 

I  left  them  to  it  and  went  upstairs  to  my  chamber.  It 
was  lit  with  two  or  three  candles  in  silver  holders — I  had 
made  the  place  quite  habitable  by  now — and  lying  on  my 
bed,  covered  with  an  eiderdown,  his  eyes  feverish,  his  face 
flushed,  lay  the  Mandarin. 

His  eyes  opened  and  he  smiled.  It  was  the  first  time 
I  had  seen  the  delicate,  melancholy  lips  light  up  in  a  real 
smile. 

"What's  that  for?"  I  said,  as  I  sat  down  by  the  bed- 
side. 

"You  are  so  big,  and  strong.  Prince,"  he  replied,  "and 
large  and  confident;  and  your  disguise  fell  from  you  as 
you  came  in  and  I  saw  you  as  you  were." 

I  knelt  beside  the  bed  and  my  breath  came  thick  and 
fast. 

"For  God's  sake  don't  play  with  me,"  I  said,  "not  that 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  171 

you  are  doing  that.  You  have  met  Her — Miss  Morse  I 
mean,  my  Juanita?" 

"Prince,  she  has  deigned  to  give  me  her  confidence  in 
some  degree.  I  do  my  work  in  the  wonderful  library  that 
Mr.  Morse  has  built.  It's  a  great  hall,  full  of  the  rarest 
volumes;  and  there  are  long  windows  from  which  one  can 
look  down  upon  London  and  gaze  beyond  the  City  to 
where  the  wrinkled  sea  beats  around  the  coast.  And, 
day  by  day,  in  her  loneliness,  the  Fairest  of  Maidens  has 
come  to  this  high  place  and  taken  a  book  of  poems,  sat 
in  the  embrasure,  and  stared  down  at  the  world  below." 

He  raised  a  thin  hand  and  held  it  upright.  It  was  so 
transparent  that  the  light  of  a  candle  behind  turned  it  to 
blood  red. 

"Let  my  presumptuous  desires  be  forever  silent,"  he 
chanted.  "  'East  is  east  and  west  is  west,'  and  I  erred 
gravely.  But,  worship  is  worship,  and  worship  is  sacri- 
fice." 

I  could  hardly  speak,  my  voice  was  hoarse,  his  words 
had  given  me  such  a  picture  of  Juanita  up  there  in  the 
clouds. 

"Prince—" 

"I  am  not  a  Prince,  I  only  have  a  very  ordinary  title. 
If  you  know  England,  you  understand  what  a  baronet  is." 

"I  know  England.  Prince,  your  Princess  is  waiting  for 
you  and  sighing  out  her  heart  that  you  have  not  come 
to  her." 

I  leapt  to  my  feet  and  swore  a  great  oath  that  made 
the  attic  room  ring. 


172  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"You  mean?"  I  shouted. 

"Prince,  the  Lily  of  all  the  lilies,  the  Rose  of  all  the 
roses,  alone,  distraught,  another  Ophelia — no,  say  rather 
Juliet  with  her  nurse — has  honored  me  with  the  story  of 
her  love.  She  never  told  me  whom  she  longed  for,  but  I 
knew  that  it  was  some  one  down  in  the  world." 

I  staggered  out  a  question. 

"It  is  my  humble  adoration  for  her  which  has  sharp- 
ened all  my  wits,"  he  answered.  "It  seemed  an  accident 
— though  the  gods  designed  it  without  doubt — that  made 
you  save  my  life  to-night,  but  now  I  know  you  are  the 
lover  of  the  Lily.  And  I  am  the  servant — the  happy  mes- 
senger— of  you  both." 

"You  can  take  a  letter  from  me  to  her?" 

"Indeed,  yes." 

"My  friend,  tell  me,  tell  me  all  about  her.  Is  she  happy? 
— no,  I  know  she  cannot  be  that — ^but — " 

He  lifted  himself  up  in  the  bed,  and  there  was  some- 
thing priest-like  in  his  attitude  as  he  folded  his  thin  hands 
upon  his  breast  and  spoke. 

"Two  thousand  feet  above  London  there  is  a  Palace 
of  all  delights.  Immeasurable  wealth,  the  genius  of  great 
artists  have  been  combined  to  make  a  City  of  Enchant- 
ment. And  in  every  garden  with  its  plashing  fountains, 
in  its  halls  of  pictures  and  delights,  upon  its  aerial  towers, 
down  its  gilded  galleries,  lurking  at  the  banquet,  mingling 
with  the  music,  great  shapes  of  terror  squeak  and  gibber 
like  the  ghosts  Shakespeare  speaks  of  in  ancient  Rome." 

"Morse?" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  173 

"There  is  a  noble  intellect  overdone  and  dissolved  in 
terror.  In  all  other  respects  sane  as  you  or  I,  my  savior 
and  benefactor,  Gideon  Morse  is  a  maniac  whose  one  sole 
idea  is  to  preserve  himself  and  his  daughter  from  some 
horror,  some  vengeance  which  surely  cannot  threaten  him." 

Twice,  thrice  I  strode  the  attic. 

Then  at  last  I  stopped. 

"Will  you  help  me  now,  Pu-Yi,  will  you  take  a  letter 
from  me,  will  you  help  me  to  meet  Her,  and  soon?" 

He  bowed  his  head  for  answer,  and  then,  as  he  looked 
up  again  his  face  was  suffused  with  a  sort  of  bright  eager- 
ness that  touched  me  to  the  heart. 

"I  am  yours,"  he  said. 

"Then  quickly,  and  soon,  Pu-Yi,  for  you  are  only  half 
informed.  Gideon  Morse  may  be  driven  mad  by  fear,  no 
doubt  he  is.  But  it  is  not  an  imaginary  fear.  It  is  a  thing 
so  sinister,  so  real  and  terrible,  that  I  cannot  tell  you  of 
it  now.  I  am  too  exhausted  by  the  events  of  this  night. 
I  will  say  only  this,  that  within  the  last  hour  a  faithful 
friend  of  mine  has  returned  from  the  other  side  of  the 
world  and  brings  me  ominous  news." 

I  believe  that  Pu-Yi,  whose  movements  were,  of  course, 
not  restricted  like  those  of  the  lower  officials,  returned  to 
the  towers  in  the  early  morning.  As  for  me,  I  caught  a 
workmen's  train  from  Richmond  station,  slunk  in  an  early 
taxi  to  Piccadilly  with  Arthur  Winstanley,  and  slipped  into 
lavender-clean  sheets  and  silence  till  past  noon,  when  Cap- 
tain Patrick  Moore  arrived  to  an  early  lunch.     Dressed 


174  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

again  in  proper  clothes,  with  dear  old  Preston  fussing  about 
me  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  I  felt  a  thousand  times  more 
confident  than  before.  Old  Pat  had  to  be  informed  of  every- 
thing, and  as  a  preliminary  I  told  him  my  whole  story,  from 
the  starting-point  of  the  "Golden  Swan." 

"And  now,"  I  said,  "here's  Arthur,  who  has  traveled 
thousands  of  miles  and  who  has  come  back  with  informa- 
tion that  fits  in  absolutely  with  everything  else.  He  gave 
me  an  epitome  last  night,  under  strange  and  fantastic  cir- 
cumstances. Now  then,  Arthur,  let's  have  it  all  clearly, 
and  then  we  shall  know  where  we  are." 

Arthur,  whose  face  was  white  and  strained,  began  at  once. 

"I  went  straight  to  Rio,"  he  said,  "and  of  course  I  took 
care  that  I  was  accredited  to  our  Legation.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  the  Minister  to  the  Brazilian  Government  is  my 
cousin.  The  news  about  the  towers  was  all  over  Brazil. 
Everybody  there  knows  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse.  He's  been 
by  a  long  way  the  most  picturesque  figure  in  South  Amer- 
ica during  the  last  twenty  years.  He  has  been  President 
of  the  Republic.  Of  course,  I  had  the  freshest  news.  My 
mother  had  given  a  party  to  introduce  Juanita  to  London 
society.  I  had  danced  with  her.  I  had  talked  to  her  fa- 
ther— I  was  the  young  English  society  man  who  brought 
authentic  news.  I  told  all  I  knew,  and  a  good  bit  more, 
and  I  sucked  in  information  like  a  vacuum-cleaner.  I 
learnt  a  tremendous  lot  as  to  the  sources  of  Morse's  enor- 
mous wealth.  I  was  glad  to  find  that  there  were  no  allega- 
tions against  him  of  any  trust  methods,  any  financial  tricks. 
He  had  got  rich  like  one  of  the  old  patriarchs,  simply  by 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  175 

shrewdness  and  long  accumulation  and  rising  values.  But 
I  had  to  go  a  good  deal  farther  back  than  this,  I  had  to 
dive  into  obscure  politics  of  South  America,  and  then — 
it  was  almost  like  a  punch  on  the  jaw — I  stumbled  against 
the  Santa  Hermandad." 

Pat  Moore  and  I  cried  out  simultaneously. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?" 

"Our  League?" 

"It's  sheer  coincidence,"  he  answered.  "I  hope  it's  not 
a  bad  omen.  During  the  time  when  the  last  Emperor  of 
Brazil,  Pedro  II,  was  reigning,  it  was  seen  by  all  his  sup- 
porters, both  in  Brazil  and  in  Spain,  that  his  power  was 
waning  and  a  crash  was  sure  to  come.  In  order  to  preserve 
the  Principle  of  the  Monarchy,  a  powerful  Secret  Society 
was  started,  under  the  name  of  the  Holy  Brotherhood  or 
Santa  Hermandad.  Gideon  Morse,  then  a  young  and  very 
influential  man,  became  a  member  of  this  Society.  But, 
after  the  Emperor  was  deposed,  and  a  Republic  declared, 
IVIorse  threw  in  his  lot  with  the  new  regime.  I  have  gath- 
ered that  he  did  so  out  of  pure  patriotism;  he  realized  that 
a  Republic  was  the  best  thing  for  his  coxmtry,  and  had  no 
personal  ax  to  grind  whatever.  He  prospered  exceedingly. 
As  you  know  he  has,  in  his  time,  been  President  of  the 
Republica  dos  Estados  Unidos  de  Brazil,  and  has  con- 
tributed more  to  the  success  of  the  country  than  any  other 
man  living." 

"Fascinatin'  study,  history,"  said  Captain  Moore,  "for 
those  that  like  it.  Personally,  I  am  no  bookworm;  cut  the 
cackle,  Arthur,  old  bean,  and  come  to  the  'osses." 


176  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"Peace,  fool!"  said  Arthur,  "if  you  can't  understand  what 
I  say,  Tom  will  explain  to  you  later,  though  I'll  be  as  short 
as  I  jolly-well  can." 

He  turned  to  me. 

"When  this  Secret  Society  failed,  Tom — the  Hermandad, 
I  mean — it  wasn't  dissolved.  It  was  agreed  by  the  Irmer 
Circle  that  it  was  only  suspended.  But  as  the  years  went 
by,  nearly  all  the  prominent  members  died,  and  the  Re- 
public became  an  assured  thing.  But  a  few  years  ago  the 
Society  was  revived,  not  with  any  real  hope  of  putting  an 
Emperor  on  the  throne  again  but  as  a  means  to  terrorism 
and  blackmail.  All  the  most  lawless  elements  of  Spanish 
South  America  became  affiliated  into  a  new  and  sinister 
confederation.  You've  heard  of  the  power  of  the  Camorra 
in  Italy — well,  the  Hermandad  in  Brazil  is  like  that  at  the 
present  time.  It  has  ramifications  everywhere,  the  police 
are  becoming  powerless  to  cope  with  it,  and  a  secret  reign 
of  terror  goes  on  at  this  hour. 

"These  people  have  made  a  dead  shot  for  Gideon  Morse. 
He  has  defied  them  for  a  long  time,  but  their  power  has 
grown  and  grown.  I  understand  that  two  years  ago  the 
Hermandad  fished  out  of  obscurity  an  old  Spanish  noble- 
man, the  Marquis  da  Silva,  who  was  one  of  the  original, 
chivalrous  monarchists.  He  was  about  the  only  surviving 
member  of  the  old  Fraternity,  and  they  got  him  to  produce 
its  constitutions.  He  came  upon  the  scene  some  two  years 
ago  and  Morse  was  given  just  that  time  to  fall  in  with  the 
plans  of  the  modern  Society,  or  be  assassinated  together  with 
his  daughter.'^ 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  177 

He  stopped,  and  it  was  dear  old  Pat  Moore  who  shouted 
with  comprehension. 

*'Why,  now,"  he  bellowed,  "sure  and  I  see  it  all.  That's 
why  he  built  the  Tower  of  Babel  and  went  to  live  on  the 
top,  and  drag  his  daughter  with  him — so  that  these  Sinn 
Feiners  should  not  get  at  'm," 

"Yes,  Pat,  you've  seen  through  it  at  a  glance,"  said 
Arthur,  with  a  private  grin  to  me. 

Pat  was  tremendously  bucked  up  at  the  thought  that  he 
had  solved  a  problem  which  had  been  puzzling  both  of  us. 

"All  the  same,"  he  said,  "the  place  is  too  well  guarded 
for  any  Spanish  murderer  to  get  up.  Besides,  Tom  here  is 
makin'  all  his  arrangements  and  he'll  have  Miss  Juanita 
out  of  it  in  no  time." 

"The  circumstances,"  Arthur  went  on  calmly,  "are  per- 
fectly well  known  to  a  few  people  at  the  head  of  the  Gov- 
ernment in  Brazil.  I  had  a  long  and  intimate  conversation 
with  Don  Francisco  Torrome,  Minister  of  Police  to  the 
Republic.  He  told  me  that  the  Hermandad  is  intensely 
revengeful,  wicked,  and  imscrupulous.  Moreover,  it's  rich; 
and  money  wouldn't  be  allowed  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
getting  at  Morse.  What  is  lacking  is  energy.  These  peo- 
ple make  the  most  complete  and  fiendish  plans,  they  dream 
the  most  fantastic  and  devilish  dreams,  and  then  they  say 
'Manana' — which  means,  'It  will  do  very  well  to-morrow' — 
and  go  to  sleep  in  the  sun." 

"Then  after  all,  Morse  is  in  no  danger!"  I  cried,  im- 
mensely relieved.  "You  said  the  danger  was  real,  but  you 
spoke  figuratively." 


178  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"Sorry,  old  chap,  not  a  bit  of  it.  There's  some  one  on 
the  track  with  energy  enough  to  pull  the  lid  off  the  infernal 
regions  if  necessary.  In  short,  the  Hermandad  have  en- 
gaged the  services  of  an  international  scoundrel  of  the  high- 
est intellectual  powers,  a  man  without  remorse,  an  artist 
in  crime — I  should  say,  and  most  Chiefs  of  Police  in  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  would  agree  with  me — the  most 
dangerous  ruffian  at  large.  You've  seen  him,  Tom,  I  pointed 
him  out  to  you  at  a  little  Soho  restaurant  where  we  dined 
once  together.  His  name  is  Mark  Antony  Midwinter,  and 
he  traveled  from  Brazil,  together  with  a  jriend,  by  the  same 
boat  that  I  did." 

"Then  he  must  be  in  London  now!"  said  Pat  Moore, 
with  the  air  of  announcing  another  great  discovery. 

"But  look  herel"  I  cried.  "I  told  you,  before  you  sailed 
for  South  America,  I  told  you  what  I  saw  at  the  Ritz 
Hotel  that  night.  It  was  the  very  same  man,  Mark  Antony 
Midwinter,  as  you  call  him,  running  like  a  hare  from  old 
Morse,  who  was  shooting  fireworks  round  him  with  a  smile 
on  his  face.  That's  not  the  man  you  think  he  is.  He 
may  be  a  devil,  but  that  night  he  was  a  devil  of  a  funk." 

"Wait  a  bit,  my  son,"  said  Arthur.  "I  have  thought  about 
that  incident  rather  carefully.  Remember  that  Morse  was 
given  a  certain  time  in  which  to  come  in  line  and  join  the 
Hermandad.  From  what  I  have  heard  of  the  punctilious, 
senile  Marquis  da  Silva,  he  wouldn't  have  allowed  the  cam- 
paign against  Morse  to  be  started  a  moment  before  the 
time  of  immunity  was  up.  Might  not  Midwinter  at  that 
time,  quite  ignorant  that  the  towers  were  being  built  as 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  179 

a  refuge  for  Morse,  have  tried  to  go  behind  his  own  em- 
ployers and  offer  to  betray  them,  and  to  drop  the  whole  busi- 
ness for  a  million  or  so?  From  what  I  know  of  the  man's 
career  I  should  think  it  extremely  probable." 

I  whistled.  Arthur  seemed  to  have  penetrated  to  the 
center  of  that  night's  mystery.  There  was  nothing  more 
likely.  I  could  imagine  the  whole  scene,  the  panther  man 
laying  his  cards  on  the  table  and  offering  to  save  IMorse 
and  Juanita  from  certain  death — Morse,  already  half  mad- 
dened by  what  hung  over  him,  chuckling  in  the  knowledge 
that  he  had  built  an  impregnable  refuge,  dismissing  the 
scoundrel  with  utter  firmness  and  contempt. 

"I  believe  you've  hit  it,  Arthur,"  I  said.  "It  fits  in  like 
the  last  bit  of  a  jig-saw  puzzle." 

"I'm  pretty  sure  myself,  but  even  now  you  don't  know  all. 
Quite  early  in  his  life,  when  Midwinter — he's  the  last  of 
the  Staffordshire  Midwinters,  an  ancient  and  famous  family 
— was  expelled  from  Harrow,  he  went  out  to  South  America. 
Morse  was  at  that  time  in  the  wilds  of  Goyaz,  where  he 
was  developing  his  mines.  There  was  a  futile  attempt  to 
kidnap  the  child,  Juanita,  who  was  then  about  two  years 
old,  and  Midwinter  was  in  it.  The  young  gentleman,  I  un- 
derstand, was  caught.  Morse  was  then,  as  doubtless  he  is 
now,  a  man  of  a  grim  and  terrible  humor.  He  took  young 
Midwinter  and  treated  him  with  every  possible  contemp- 
tuous indignity.  They  say  his  head  was  shaved;  he  was 
birched  like  a  schoolboy  by  Morse's  peons;  he  was  branded, 
tarred  and  feathered,  and  turned  contemptuously  adrift. 
The  fellow  came  back  to  Europe,  married  a  celebrated 


i8o  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

actress  in  Paris,  who  is  now  dead,  and  has  been,  as  I  say, 
one  of  the  most  successful  uncaught  members  of  the  higher 
criminal  circles  that  ever  was.  He  made  an  attempt  at  the 
Ritz,  swallowing  his  hatred.  It  failed.  His  employers  in 
Brazil  know  nothing  of  it.  He  is  here  in  London — as  Pat 
so  wonderfully  discovered — supplied  with  unlimited  money, 
burning  with  a  hatred  of  which  a  decent  man  can  have  no 
conception,  and  confronted  with  his  last  chance  in  the 
world." 

As  he  said  this,  Arthur  got  up,  bit  his  lip  savagely  and 
left  the  room. 

It  was  about  two-thirty  in  the  afternoon. 

Though  he  closed  the  door  after  him,  I  heard  voices  in 
the  corridor,  and  the  door  reopened  an  inch  or  two  as  if 
some  one  was  holding  it  before  coming  in. 

"You  are  not  well,  my  lord?" 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,  Preston;  just  feeling  a  little  faint, 
that's  all.  Sorry  to  nearly  have  barged  into  you;  I'll  go 
and  lie  down  for  half  an  hour," 

The  door  opened  and  Preston  came  in  with  a  telegram. 

I  opened  it  immediately  and  felt  three  or  four  flimsy 
sheets  of  Government  paper  in  my  hand. 

The  telegram  was  in  the  special  cipher  of  the  Evening 
Special,  and  was  from  Rolston. 

"The  tower  top  is  connected  with  Richmond  telephone 
exchange  by  private  wire.  I  have  been  rung  up  and  in  long 
conversation  with  Pu-Yi.  Early  in  the  evening  you  will 
receive  a  letter  from  certain  lady.    Owing  to  certain  com- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  i8i 

plication  of  circumstances  your  attempt  at  storming  the 
tower  and  seeing  lady  must  be  carried  out  to-night.  Our 
friend  is  making  all  possible  arrangements  to  this  end  and 
urgently  begs  you  to  be  prepared.  He  implicitly  urges  me 
to  warn  you  the  attempt  is  not  without  grave  danger. 
Please  return  to  'Swan'  at  once.  There  is  much  to  be 
arranged,  and  at  lunch  time  two  strange-looking  custom- 
ers were  in  the  bar  whose  appearance  I  didn't  like  at  all. 
Also  Sliddim  thinks  he  recognized  one  of  them  as  an  ex- 
ceedingly dangerous  person." 

For  to-night!  At  last  the  patient  months  of  waiting 
were  over  and  it  had  all  narrowed  down  to  this.  To-night 
I  should  win  or  lose  all  that  made  life  worth  living;  and 
the  fast  taxi  that  took  me  back  to  Richmond  within  twenty 
minutes  of  receiving  the  telegram,  carried  a  man  singing. 


CHAPTER    TEN 

The  wind  was  getting  up  on  Richmond  Hill  and  masses  of 
cloud  were  scudding  from  the  South  and  obscuring  the  light 
of  the  moon,  when  at  about  half-past  nine  a  small,  well- 
appointed  motor  coupe  drew  up  in  front  of  the  great  gate 
at  the  tower  inclosure. 

The  small  closed-in  car  was  painted  dead  black,  the  man 
who  drove  it  was  in  livery,  and  a  professional-looking  per- 
son in  a  fur  coat  stepped  out  and  pressed  the  electric  button 
of  a  small  door  in  the  wall  by  the  side  of  the  huge  main 
gates.    In  his  hand  he  had  a  little  black  bag. 

In  a  moment  the  door  opened  a  few  inches  and  a  large, 
saffron-colored,  intelligent  face  could  be  seen  in  the  aperture. 

"The  doctor  1"  said  the  gentleman  from  the  coupe.  The 
door  opened  at  once  to  admit  him. 

He  turned  and  spoke  to  the  chauffeur. 

"As  I  cannot  tell  you  how  long  I  shall  be,  Williams,"  he 
said,  "you  had  better  go  back  to  the  surgery  and  wait  there. 
I  have  no  doubt  I  can  telephone  when  I  require  you." 

The  man  touched  his  cap  and  drove  off,  and  the  doctor 
found  himself  in  a  vaulted  passage,  to  the  right  of  which 
was  a  brightly  lit  room.  Standing  in  the  passage  and  bow- 
ing was  a  gigantic  Chinaman,  Kwang-su,  the  keeper  of  the 
gate,  in  a  quilted  black  robe  lined  with  fur.    The  man  bowed 

182 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  183 

low,  and  a  second  Chinaman  came  out  of  the  room,  a  thin 
ascetic-looking  person. 

"Ah,  Dr.  Thomas!"  he  said,  "we've  been  expecting  you. 
I  am  secretary  to  Mr.  Morse.  Perhaps  you  will  come  this 
way."  i^       '    ■■        ■  If j^r^'^^fl*;?^^^ 

He  led  the  doctor  down  the  passage,  unlocked  a  further 
door  and  the  two  men  emerged  into  the  grounds,  proceed- 
ing down  a  wide,  graveled  road,  bordered  by  strips  of  lawn 
and  lit  at  intervals  with  electric  standards.  In  the  distance 
there  were  ranges  of  lit  buildings  with  figures  flitting  back- 
wards and  forwards  before  the  orange  oblongs  of  doors  and 
windov/s.  In  another  quarter  rose  the  lighted  dome  of  the 
great  Power  House  from  which  the  low  hum  of  dynamos 
and  the  steady  throb  of  engines  could  be  faintly  heard  in 
pauses  of  the  gale.  It  was  exactly  like  standing  at  night 
in  the  center  of  some  great  exhibition  grounds,  save  that 
straight  ahead,  overshadowing  everything  and  covering  an 
immense  area  of  ground,  were  the  bases  of  the  three  great 
towers,  a  nightmare  of  fantastic  steel  tracery  such  as  no 
man's  eye  had  beheld  before  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

"So  far,  so  good,"  said  Pu-Yi  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "That 
was  excellently  managed,  the  motor-car  was  quite  in  keeping. 
Your  wonderful  little  friend  who  speaks  my  language  so 
well  is  already  in  the  compound  with  some  of  the  men.  He 
will  await  here  to  take  any  orders  that  may  be  necessary." 

I  was  trembling  with  excitement  and  could  hardly  reply. 

Here  I  was  at  last,  passed  into  the  Forbidden  City  with 
the  greatest  ease. 

"We  will  walk  slowly  towards  tower  number  three,  which 


i84  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

is  the  one  we  shall  ascend,"  said  my  companion,  "and  I 
will  explain  the  situation  to  you.  On  the  tower  top  I  have 
supreme  authority,  except  for  one  man,  and  that's  the  Irish- 
American,  Boss  Mulligan.  This  worthy  is  much  addicted 
to  the  use  of  hot  and  rebellious  liquors,  and  is  generally 
more  or  less  intoxicated  about  this  time,  though  he  is  more 
alert  and  ferocious  than  when  sober.  To-night  I  have  taken 
the  opportunity  to  put  a  little  something  in  his  bottle,  a 
little  something  from  China,  which  will  not  be  detected,  and 
which  will  by  now  have  sent  him  into  a  profound,  drugged 
slumber.  I  then  telephoned  all  down  the  tower  to  the  lift 
men  on  the  various  stages,  and  also  to  Kwang  there,  that 
a  doctor  was  to  be  expected  and  that  I  would  come  down 
to  meet  him  and  conduct  him  to  Mr.  Morse." 

"Excellent!"  I  said,  "and  now—?" 

"Now  we  are  going  straight  up  to  the  very  top.  Every 
one  will  see  us  but  no  one  will  think  anything  strange. 
Moreover,  and  this  is  a  fact  in  our  favor,  when  Mulligan 
awakes  no  one  will  be  able  to  tell  him  of  the  incident  even 
if  they  suspected  anything,  for  few,  if  any,  of  the  tower 
men  speak  more  than  a  few  rudimentary  words  of  English, 
and  I  am  the  intermediary  between  them  and  their  master. 
This  was  specially  arranged  by  Mr.  Morse  so  that  none 
of  them  could  get  into  communication  with  Europeans.  The 
fact  is  greatly  in  our  favor." 

I  pressed  my  hand  to  a  pocket  over  my  heart,  where  lay 
a  little  note  which  had  been  mysteriously  conveyed  to  me 
early  in  the  evening — a  little  agitated  note  bidding  me  come 
at  all  costs — and  passed  on  in  silence  until  we  came  under 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  185 

the  gloomy  shadows  of  the  mighty  girders  and  columns 
which  sprang  up  from  an  expanse  of  smooth  concrete  which 
seemed  to  stretch  as  far  as  eye  could  reach. 

We  changed  our  lift  at  each  stage;  and  I  could  have 
wished  that  it  was  day  or, the  night  was  finer,  for  the  ex- 
perience is  wonderful  when  one  undergoes  it  for  the  first 
time. 

"We  shall  ascend  by  one  of  the  small  rapid  lifts  built  for 
four  or  five  persons  only,  and  not  the  large  and  more  cum- 
brous machines.  Even  so,  you  must  remember.  Doctor" — 
he  chuckled  as  he  called  me  that — "we  have  nearly  half  a 
mile  to  go." 

On  and  on  we  went,  amid  this  lifeless  forest  of  steel 
with  its  smooth  concrete  and  shining  electric-lamps,  until 
at  last  we  approached  a  small,  illuminated  pavilion,  where 
two  silent  celestials  awaited  us.  We  stepped  into  the  lift, 
the  door  was  closed,  a  bell  rang  and  we  began  to  move 
upwards.  I  sat  down  on  a  plush-covered  seat  and  didn't 
attempt  to  look  out  of  the  frosted  windows  on  either  side 
until  at  length,  after  what  seemed  an  interminable  time,  we 
stopped  with  a  little  jerk.  Pu-Yi  opened  the  door  and  led 
me  down  on  to  a  platform. 

"We  are  now,"  he  said,  "on  the  first  stage — just  fifty 
feet  higher  than  the  golden  cross  on  the  top  of  Saint  Paul's. 
If  you  will  come  up  this  slant — see!  here's  the  next  lift." 

I  followed  him  along  a  steel  platform  for  some  twenty 
or  thirty  yards,  the  wind  whistling  all  around.  On  look- 
ing to  the  right  I  saw  nothing  but  a  black  void,  at  the 
bottom  of  which,  far,  far  below,  was  the  yellow  glow  of 


i86  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Richmond  town.  On  looking  to  the  left  I  stopped  for  a 
moment  and  stared,  unable  to  believe  my  eyes.  As  I  live, 
there  was  an  immense  lake  there,  surrounded  by  rushes  that 
sang  and  swished  in  the  wind,  with  a  boat-house,  and  a  little 
landing-stage! 

Then,  with  a  clang  of  wings  and  a  chorus  of  shrill  quacks, 
a  gaggle  of  wild  duck  got  up  and  sped  away  into  the  dark. 

"Yes,"  said  Pu-Yi,  "that's  the  lake.  There  are  many 
variety  of  water  fowl  fed  there,  who  make  it  their  home. 
On  a  quiet  afternoon,  walking  round  the  margin,  or  in  a 
canoe,  one  can  feel  ten  thousand  miles  away  from  London. 
But  that's  nothing  to  what  you  will  see  if  circumstances 
permit." 

I  have  but  a  dim  recollection  of  the  second  stage,  which 
was  only  a  stage  in  the  particular  tower  we  were  mounting, 
and  did  not  extend  between  the  three  as  the  lower  and  two 
upper  ones  did,  forming  the  immense  plateaus  of  which  the 
lake  was  one  and  the  City  in  the  clouds  itself  another. 

It  was  when  we  had  slowed  down,  and  even  in  the  dark 
lift,  that  I  began  to  have  a  curious  sensation  of  an  im- 
mense immeasurable  height,  and  Pu-Yi  gave  me  a  warning 
look  as  who  would  say,  "Now,  get  ready,  the  adventure 
really  begins." 

We  stopped,  the  door  slid  back  and  immediately  we  were 
in  a  blaze  of  light.  We  were  no  longer  out  of  doors.  The 
lift  had  come  up  through  the  floor  of  a  large  room.  It 
was  divided  into  two  portions  by  polished  steel  bars  extend- 
ing from  ceiling  to  floor.  A  cat  could  not  have  squeezed 
through.    On  our  side,  the  lift  side,  the  floor  was  covered 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  187 

with  matting  but  there  was  no  furniture  at  all.  Beyond 
the  bars  were  a  Turkey  carpet,  several  armchairs,  a  mahog- 
any table  with  bottles,  siphons,  newspapers,  and  a  large, 
automatic  pistol.  An  electric  fire  burned  cheerily  in  one 
corner  and  at  right  angles  to  it  was  a  couch.  Upon  this 
couch,  purple-faced  and  snoring  like  a  bull,  lay  Mulligan, 
huge,  relaxed,  helpless. 

"Good  heavens!"  I  whispered.  "Gideon  Morse  is  safe 
enough  here." 

"In  ten  seconds,"  Pu-Yi  whispered,  "by  pressing  that  bell 
button.  Mulligan  could  have  the  room  full  of  armed  guards, 
and  as  you  see,  this  steel  fence  is  unpassable  without  the 
key.    There  are  only  three  keys,  of  which  I  have  one." 

He  produced  it  as  he  spoke,  inserting  it  in  a  gleaming, 
complicated  lock,  slid  back  a  portion  of  the  steel-work,  and 
we  stepped  into  the  guard-room. 

"We  are  now,"  said  my  guide,  "on  the  platform  imme- 
diately under  that  on  which  the  City  rests,  and  about  a 
hundred  feet  below  it.  This  platform  is  entirely  occupied 
by  this  guard-room,  a  range  of  store  and  dwelling  houses, 
the  elaborate  electric  installation,  power  for  which  is  sup- 
plied from  below,  Turkish  baths,  a  swimming  bath,  and  so 
forth.    Please  follow  me." 

With  a  glance  of  repulsion  at  the  drugged  giant  on  the 
couch  I  went  after  Pu-Yi,  through  a  door  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room,  and  down  a  long  corridor  with  windows 
on  one  side  and  arched  recesses  on  the  other.  At  the  end 
of  this  we  came  out  again  into  the  open  air,  that  is  to  say 
that  we  were  shielded  by  walls  and  buildings,  walking  as 


i88  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

it  were  in  a  sleeping  town  upon  streets  paved  with  wood 
blocks,  while  instead  of  the  vault  of  heaven  above,  about 
the  height  of  a  tallish  church  tower  were  the  great  beams 
and  girders  which  supported  the  City  itself,  and  from  which, 
at  regular  intervals,  hung  arc  lamps  which  threw  a  blue 
and  stilly  radiance  upon  the  streets  and  roofs  of  the  build- 
ings. 

It  was  colossal,  amazing,  this  great  colony  in  the  sky. 
Now  and  then  we  heard  voices,  the  rattle  of  dice  thrown 
upon  a  board,  and  the  wailing  music  of  Chinese  violins. 
Two  or  three  times  silent  figures  passed  us  with  a  low 
bow,  and  without  a  glimmer  of  curiosity  in  their  impassive 
faces,  until  at  length  we  came  to  a  long  row  of  lift  doors, 
with  an  inscription  above  each  one,  and  in  the  center,  divid- 
ing them  into  sections,  a  large,  vaulted  stairway  mounting 
upwards  till  it  was  lost  to  sight.  It  was  lined  with  white 
tiles  like  a  subway  in  some  great  railway  terminus. 

Pu-Yi  unlocked  the  door  of  a  small  lift.  We  got  into 
it,  it  rushed  up  for  a  few  seconds  and  then  we  came  out  of 
a  small  white  kiosk  upon  a  scene  so  wonderful,  so  enchanted 
that  I  forgot  all  else  for  a  second,  caught  hold  of  my  con- 
ductor's thin  arm  and  gave  a  cry  of  admiration  and  wonder. 
A  mass  of  clouds  had  just  raced  before  the  moon,  leaving  it 
free  to  shed  its  light  until  another  should  envelop  it. 

The  pure  radiance,  unspoiled  by  smoke,  mist,  or  the 
miasma  which  hangs  above  the  roofs  of  earthly  cities,  poured 
down  in  floods  of  light  upon  a  vast  quadrangle  of  buildings, 
white  as  snow  and  with  roofs  that  seemed  of  gold. 

I  had  the  impression  of  immensity,  though  magnified  a 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  189 

dozen  times,  that  the  great  quadrangle  of  Christ  Church, 
Oxford,  or  the  court  of  Trinity,  Cambridge,  give  to  one  who 
sees  them  for  the  first  time.  But  that  impression  was  only 
fleeting.  These  buildings  seemed  to  obey  no  architectural 
law.  They  were  tossed  up  like  foam  in  the  upper  air,  mar- 
velous, fantastic,  beautiful  beyond  words. 

We  hurried  along  by  the  side  of  a  great  green  lawn 
which  might  have  been  a  century  growing,  past  bronze 
dragons  supporting  fountain  basins,  down  an  arcade,  where 
the  broad  leaves  of  palms  clicked  together  and  there  was  a 
scent  of  roses,  until  we  hurried  through  a  little  postern  door 
and  up  some  steps  and  came  out  in  what  Pu-Yi  whispered 
was  the  library. 

Wonder  upon  wonders!  My  brain  reeled  as  we  stepped 
out  of  the  door  in  the  wall  into  a  great  Gothic  room  with 
groined  roof  of  stone,  an  oriel  window  at  one  end,  and 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  books  in  the  embayed  shelves 
of  ancient  oak.  It  was  exactly  like  the  library  of  some 
great  college  or  castle;  one  expected  to  see  learned  men  in 
gowns  and  hoods  moving  slowly  from  shelf  to  shelf,  or  writ- 
ing at  this  or  that  table. 

"But,  but,"  I  stammered,  "this  might  have  been  here 
for  seven  hundred  years!"  and  indeed  there  was  all  the  deep 
scholastic  charm  and  dignity  of  one  of  the  great  libraries 
of  the  past. 

For  answer  he  turned  to  me,  and  I  saw  that  his  thin 
hand  clutched  at  his  heart. 

"It's  all  illusion,"  he  whispered,  "all  curming  and  wonder- 
ful illusion.    The  walls  of  this  place  are  not  of  ancient  stone. 


I90  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

They  are  plates  of  toughened  steel.  The  old  oak  was  made 
yesterday  at  great  expense.    'Tis  all  a  picture  in  a  dream." 

I  saw  that  he  was  powerfully  affected  for  a  moment,  but 
for  just  that  moment  I  did  not  understand  why. 

"But  the  books!"  I  cried,  looking  round  me  in  amaze- 
ment— "surely  the  books — ?" 

"Ah,  yes,"  he  sighed,  "they  are  the  collection  of  Mr. 
Gideon  Morse,  which  is  second  to  very  few  in  the  world. 
They  were  all  brought  over  from  Rio  nearly  two  years  ago. 
We  cannot  compete  with  the  British  Museum,  or  some  of 
the  great  American  collectors  in  certain  ways,  but  there  are 
treasures  here — " 

We  had  by  now  walked  half-way  up  the  great  hall.  He 
stopped,  went  to  part  of  the  wall  covered  with  books, 
withdrew  one,  turned  a  little  handle  which  its  absence  re- 
vealed, and  a  whole  section  of  the  shelves  swung  outwards. 

"In  here,  please,"  said  Pu-Yi,  "this  is  a  little  room  where 
I  sometimes  do  secretarial  work.  At  any  rate  it  is  hidden, 
and  you  will  be  quite  safe  here  while  I  go  to  the  Seiiorita 
and  tell  her  that  you  await  her." 

The  door  clicked.    I  sat  down  on  a  low  couch  and  waited. 

The  experiences  of  the  night  had  been  so  strange,  the 
intense  longing  of  months  seemed  now  so  near  fruition, 
that  every  artery  in  my  body  pulsed  and  drumm^ed,  and  it 
was  only  by  a  tremendous  effort  of  will  that  I  sat  down 
and  forced  myself  to  think. 

Here  I  was,  at  her  own  invitation,  to  rescue  my  love. 
As  my  mind  began  to  work  I  saw  that  I  must  be  guided 
in  my  course  of  action  by  what  she  told  me.    Juanita  ob- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  191 

viously  thought  that  her  father's  aberration  was  a  form  of 
madness  without  foundation.  She  did  not  know  what  I 
had  discovered.  If  she  did  she  might  reahze  that  her 
father  was  possibly  not  so  mad  as  she  imagined.  For 
myself,  after  this  space  of  time,  I  can  say  that  I  was  very 
seriously  disturbed  by  Arthur  Winstanley's  revelations  in 
regard  to  the  unspeakable  Midwinter  and  the  news  that  he 
was  now  in  England.  Perhaps  you  will  remember  that  in 
Bill  Rolston's  telegram  to  me  he  hinted  at  some  suspicious 
strangers  having  been  seen  in  the  private  bar  of  the  "Golden 
Swan."  One  of  them,  I  had  ascertained,  answered  to  the 
description  of  Midwinter  in  every  detail,  and  the  two  men 
were  seen  by  Sliddim  to  drive  away  through  Richmond  Park 
in  a  large,  private  car. 

Certainly  I  must  tell  Juanita  something  of  this  and  help 
her  to  warn  her  father,  perhaps  .  .  . 

And  then  I  remembered  the  elaborate  precautions  of  my 
ascent,  the  literal  impossibility  of  any  stranger  or  strangers 
ever  getting  to  where  I  was,  and  I  breathed  again. 

The  place — one  couldn't  call  it  a  room — in  which  I  sat, 
was  simply  a  little  sexagonal  nook  or  retreat,  masked  from 
the  great  library  by  its  great  door  of  books.  Three  of  the 
panels  which  went  from  the  floor  to  the  vaulted  ceiling  were 
of  dead  black  silk.  The  other  three  were  of  Chinese  em- 
broidery, stiff,  with  raised  gold,  and  gems,  which  I  realized 
must  be  from  the  choicest  examples  of  their  kind  in  the 
world.  Still,  I  wasn't  interested  in  dragons  of  tarnished  gold, 
with  opal  eyes,  ivory  teeth,  and  scales  of  lapislazuli.  I 
was  getting  restive  when  the  black  panel,  which  was  the 


192  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

back  of  the  entrance  door,  swung  towards  me,  and  I  saw 
Juanita. 

She  was  dressed  in  black,  a  sort  of  tea-gown  I  suppose 
you'd  call  it,  though  round  her  shoulders  and  falling  on  each 
side  of  her  slim  form  was  a  cloak  of  heavy  sable. 

In  her  blue-black  hair — oh,  my  dear,  how  true  you  were 
then  to  the  fashions  of  the  south,  and  how  true  you  are 
to-day — there  was  a  glowing,  crimson  rose. 

We  stood  and  looked  at  each  other,  in  this  tiny  room, 
for  I  suppose  two  or  three  seconds. 

What  Juanita  felt  she  told  me  afterwards,  and  it  isn't 
part  of  this  narrative. 

What  I  felt  was  awe,  sheer,  impersonal  awe,  as  I  realized 
that  I  had  surmounted  incredible  difficulties,  endured  ages 
of  longing,  plotting,  planning,  and  now  stood  alone  in  front 
of  the  most  Beautiful  Girl  in  the  World. 

I  saw  her  as  that.  I  remembered  the  night  at  Lady 
Brentford's  when  the  league  was  formed. 

And  then,  thank  Heaven,  for  in  another  second  every- 
thing might  have  been  quite  spoiled,  I  remembered  that  she 
was  just  my  Juanita,  who  had  sent  for  me,  and  I  took  her 
in  my  arms  and,  and  .  .  . 

We  sat  hand  in  hand  upon  the  odd  little  Chinese  couch. 

"Now  look  here,  darling,"  I  said,  ''you've  told  me  all 
about  your  Governor.  How  he  says  that  you  must  live  up 
here  in  this  extraordinary  place  and  never  go  into  the  world 
again.    You  think  him  mad,  and  yet,  d'you  know,  I  don't." 

"But,  my  heart—?" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  193 

"I've  got  to  tell  you,  dearest,  that  he  has  more  reason 
than  you  think." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders — it  was  about  the  most  grace- 
ful thing  I  had  ever  seen  in  my  life. 

"But  to  tell  me  that  I  am  to  be  a  nun  because,  if  I  were 
to  go  back  into  the  world,  my  life  wouldn't  be  worth  a 
moment's  purchase.  Carol  It  is  madness!  It  cannot  be 
anything  else." 

I  didn't  quite  know  how  to  tell  her,  and  I  was  consid- 
ering, when  she  went  on: 

"It  is  getting  dreadful.  Father  cannot  sleep,  he  prowls 
about  this  nightmare  of  a  place  all  the  night  long." 

"Sweetheart,"  I  said,  "I've  been  making  all  sorts  of  in- 
quiries and  I've  found  out  that  your  Governor  is  really  in 
serious  danger  of  assassination — or  was  until  he  built  this 
place,  to  which  I  think  the  devil  could  hardly  penetrate 
without  an  invitation.  Don't  think  your  father  a  coward. 
Remember  what  we  saw  that  night  in  the  Ritz  Hotel,  when 
I  was  just  about  to  tell  you  that  I  adored  you.  No,  I'd 
lay  long  odds,  Juanita  darling,  that  Mr.  Morse  is  more 
afraid  for  you  than  for  himself.  And  there  I'll  back  him 
up  every  time." 

She  laughed,  and  her  laughter  was  like  water  falling  into 
water  in  paradise! 

"I  have  you,"  she  said;  "I  have  father — what  do  I  care?" 

"Quite  so,"  I  replied.  "I  think  you  take  a  very  sensible 
view  of  it.  The  obvious  thing  to  do  is  to  relieve  your  father 
by  coming  with  me  to-night,  while  the  coast  is  clear.  Lady 
Brentford  is  in  town.    She  will  be  delighted  to  receive  you. 


194  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Once  out  of  the  place,  we  can  be  free  within  an  hour.  To- 
morrow morning  I  can  get  a  special  license  from  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  and  we  can  be  married. 

"Once  that  happens,  I'll  defy  all  the  Santa  Hermandads, 
and  all  the  Mark  Antony  Midwinters  in  the  world,  to  hurt 
you.  And  as  for  Mr.  Morse,  we'll  protect  him  too,  in  a 
far  more  sensible  way  than — " 

I  suppose  I  had  been  holding  her  rather  tightly.  At  any 
rate  she  broke  away  and  stood  up  in  the  center  of  the  little 
room.    The  brightness  of  her  face  was  clouded  with  thought. 

I  had  not  risen  and  she  stared  down  at  me  with  great, 
smoldering  eyes. 

"So  it  is  true!"  she  said,  nodding  her  head,  "it  is  true, 
father  and  I  are  in  peril,  after  all!  Names  escaped  you 
just  now,  I  think  I  have  heard  one  of  them  before — " 

She  passed  her  hand  over  her  brow,  like  some  one  awaking 
from  sleep,  and  I  watched  her,  fascinafed. 

Oh,  how  lovely  she  was  at  that  moment,  my  dear,  my 
perfect  dear! 

"But,  caro,  of  course  I  cannot  run  away  with  you  and 
be  married.    /  must  stay  with  father,  cannot  you  see  that?" 

Well,  of  course  I  did,  there  were  no  two  words  about  it. 
"Very  well,"  I  answered,  "Little  Lady  of  my  heart,  I'll  stick 
by  the  old  chap  too.  I've  crept  up  here  in  a  sort  of  under- 
hand way,  but  not  for  underhand  reasons.  After  all,  I've 
just  as  much  right  to  love  you  as  anybody  else  in  this 
world." 

I  took  her  by  her  sweet  hands  and  I  laughed  in  her  face. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  195 

'I'm  not  the  Duke  of  Perth,"  I  said,  "but,  but,  Juan- 
ita— ?" 

There  came  a  little  knocking  at  the  door. 
Juanita  swirled  round,  flung  up  her  arm— I  saw  her  sweet 
face  glowing  for  an  instant— and  then  she  seemed  to  whirl 
away  like  an  autumn  leaf. 
The  only  thing  I  could  possibly  do  was  to  light  a  cigarette. 
Juanita,  having  met  me,  having  delivered  her  ultimatum, 
having  turned  me  into  a  jelly,  flitted  away  quite  oblivious 
of  the  fact  that  I  was  a  burglar,  an  intruder  into  what  was 
probably  the  most  guarded  and  secret  place  in  Europe  at 
that  moment. 

My  heart  sang  high  music,  and  that  was  well.    But  at  the 
same  time  I  recognized  that  I  was  in  the  deuce  of  a  mess 
and  had  planned  out  no  course  of  action  at  all. 
I  prayed,  almost  audibly,  for  Pu-Yi. 
But  nobody  came.    There  I  was  in  the  sexagonal  room, 
with  the  gold  dragons  with  their  jeweled  eyes  leering  at  me. 
A  dull  anger  welled  up  within  me.    On  every  side,  men- 
tally as  well  as  physically,  I  seemed  baffled,  hemmed  in. 
I  determined,  at  any  risk  to  myself,  to  get  out  into  the 
library.    I  took  two  steps  towards  the  door  through  which 
Juanita  had  gone,  when  I  heard  a  sharp  snap  just  be- 
hind me. 

I  whipped  round,  clutching  the  only  weapon  I  had— 
which  was  a  brass  knuckle-duster  in  the  side  pocket  of  my 
coat,  and  then  I  stood  absolutely  still. 

One  of  the  dragon  panels  had  rolled  up  like  a  theater 


196  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

curtain,  and  standing  in  what  appeared  to  be  the  end  of 
a  passage,  was  the  great  brute  Mulligan,  with  a  Winchester 
rifle  at  his  shoulder,  covering  me. 

As  a  man  does  in  the  presence  of  imminent  danger,  I 
swerved  out  of  the  line  of  the  deadly  barrel. 

As  I  did  so — click!  A  second  panel  disappeared,  and 
I  was  confronted  by  Gideon  Morse,  his  hands  in  the  pockets 
of  his  dinner  jacket,  his  mouth  faintly  smiling,  his  eyes 
inscrutable. 

Imagine  it!  let  the  picture  appear  to  you  of  the  fool, 
Thomas  Kirby,  trapped  like  a  rat! 

Once,  twice  I  swallowed  in  my  throat,  and  I  swear  it 
wasn't  from  fear  but  only  from  an  enormous,  immeasurable 
disgust. 

I  turned  to  Morse. 

"You've  been  listening,"  I  said,  "you  and  your  servant 
here." 

"I  have  been  listening,  Sir  Thomas  Kirby,  that's  true. 
I  have  every  right  to.  When  a  man  breaks  into  my  house 
without  my  knowledge  and  makes  clandestine  love  to  my 
daughter,  he's  not  the  person  to  accuse  one  of  eavesdrop- 
ping. As  for  my  servant  there,  you  do  me  an  injustice, 
which  I  find  harder  to  forgive  than  anything,  when  you 
suggest  that  I  allowed  him  to  overhear  what  passed  in 
this  room  just  now.  He  was  not  at  his  post  until  Juanita 
had  been  gone  from  here  some  seconds.  Mulligan,  you 
can  go  now.  Sir  Thomas,  please  come  with  me  into  the 
library." 

There  was   something  so  magnetic  about   this  strange 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  197 

and  compelling  personality  that  I   followed  him  without 
a  word. 

"Then  you  knew,"  I  asked  in  a  husky  voice,  "you  knew 
all  the  time?" 
He  smiled. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  arranged  a  little  comedy.  The  faith- 
ful Mulligan  was  not  drugged  at  all,  and  I  did  everything 
to  facilitate  your  entrance." 

"Then  that  treacherous  cur,  Pu-Yi,  was  playing  with  me 
the  whole  time!  And  yet  I  could  have  sworn  that  he  was 
genuine.    When  I  meet  him — " 

"You  will  shake  hands  with  him  if  you  are  a  wise  man. 
Pu-Yi  was  absolutely  genuine,  but  he,  in  common  with  my 
daughter,  knew  nothing  of  the  truth  until  you  told  it  him. 
He  had  believed  me  a  madman.  Then  he  understood  not 
only  the  peril  in  which  I  was,  and  am,  but  also  that  of  my 
daughter.  Do  you  think,  Kirby,  that  I  should  have  built 
these  towers,  let  imagination  transcend  itself,  made  myself 
the  cynosure  of  Europe,  unless  I  was  sure  of  what  I  was 
doing?  Now,  alas,  you've  told  Juanita,  and  brought  terror 
into  her  life  as  well  as  mine." 

"Sir,"  I  said,  "her  relief  is  greater  than  any  fear.  I'll 
answer  for  that." 

I  faced  him  fair  and  square. 

"God  knows,"  I  said,  "I'm  not  worth  a  single  glance  of 
her  sweet  eyes,  but  somehow  or  other  she  loves  me,  though 
she  wouldn't  fly  with  me  when  I  suggested  it." 

"She  has  some  decent  feeling  left,"  he  answered,  with  a 
dry  chuckle.    "Well,  I  overheard  everything  that  passed  in 


198  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

that  little  room  and  I  must  say  I  rather  appreciate  the 
way  in  which  you  behaved.  You  are  a  rapid  thinker,  Sir 
Thomas.  What  suggests  itself  to  you  as  the  next  move  in 
our  relations?" 

"Quite  obvious,  sir.  You  give  your  consent  to  my  en- 
gagement with  your  daughter.  You  please  her,  you  bind 
me  to  your  interests  by  hoops  of  steel — though  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  I'm  bound  already — and  you  add  a  not  invalua- 
ble auxiliary  to  your  staff." 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  perfectly  calmly,  and  held  out  his 
hand.  "Now  come  and  have  some  supper  and  tell  me  all 
you  know." 

Then  that  astonishing  man  thrust  his  arm  through  mine 
and  led  me  down  the  great  library. 

"What  a  marvelous  intellect  that  fellow  Pu-Yi  has,"  he 
said  confidentially.  "He  saw  the  situation  in  all  its  bear- 
ings, from  all  sides  at  once,  and  made  an  instant  decision. 
I'll  tell  you  now,  Kirby,  that  he  actually  predicted  every 
detail  of  what  has  just  come  to  pass.  He  told  me  that  he 
owed  you  his  life  and  was  perfectly  ready  to  die  for  you, 
as  of  course  for  me  and  my  daughter,  but  that  it  had  oc- 
curred to  him  that  his  living  for  all  three  of  us  might  be 
by  far  the  wisest  attitude  to  adopt  under  the  circumstances. 
I  quite  agree  with  him." 

Then  again  came  the  little  dry,  strange  chuckle. 

"But  no  more  peddling  poppy-juice  to  my  Chinese,  my 
boy.    It  plays  the  devil  with  their  nerves  in  the  end!" 


CHAPTER   ELEVEN 

Morse  and  I  sat  at  supper  in  a  room  which  differed  in  no 
way  from  the  ordinary  study  of  a  country  gentleman.  Ex- 
cept for  the  very  slightest  suggestion  rather  than  sensation 
of  vibration,  which  my  host  explained  was  the  drag  of  the 
City  on  the  three  great  towers  which  perpetually  oscillated 
out  of  the  perpendicular,  and  so  insured  the  safety  of  the 
vast  elastic  structure,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate 
that  we  were  two  thousand  two  hundred  feet  up  in  the 
air. 

Our  meal  was  of  the  simplest,  and  during  it  I  told  Morse, 
without  reservation,  all  that  I  had  heard  from  Arthur 
Winstanley. 

"He  has  the  outline  very  correctly.  I'll  fill  it  in  later. 
How  long  has  Lord  Arthur  been  in  London?" 

"About  five  days,  I  believe." 

"Time  for  many  preparations  to  be  made  if  they're  going 
to  strike  quickly,"  he  said,  more  to  himself  than  to  me, 
drumming  his  fingers  on  the  tablecloth. 

Then  he  looked  up. 

"And  these  two  men  who  were  seen  to-day  in  the  bar 
of  your  public  house?" 

"One,  sir,  was  undoubtedly  Midwinter.  My  very  sharp- 
witted  informant  describes  the  other  man  as  a  swarthy  per- 

199 


200  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

son  of  just  over  middle  height  and  apparently  of  great 
personal  strength.  He  was  bearded,  sallow-faced,  and  had 
somewhat  the  appearance  of  a  half-caste." 

"Zorilla  y  Toro,  as  I  expected,"  said  Morse.  "Zorilla 
the  Bull,  as  he  is  known  in  half  the  Republics  of  South 
America." 

"No  doubt,"  I  remarked,  "a  formidable  pair  of  ruffians, 
but  remember  that  I  saw  you  deal  with  one  of  them  at 
any  rate,  that  night  at  the  Ritz  Hotel.  The  way  he  legged 
it  out  of  the  drawing-room  wouldn't  have  inspired  me  with 
any  particular  fear  of  him." 

Morse  struck  the  table  with  his  hand. 

"I  wish  I'd  sent  a  bullet  through  his  heart  instead  of 
playing  fancy  fireworks  round  him.  But  I  feared  London 
and  your  colossal  law  and  order.  It's  perfectly  true,  he 
didn't  influence  me  in  the  least  on  that  night.  He  came 
to  sell  his  employers,  to  sell  the  Hermandad  for  a  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds." 

"It  would  have  been  cheaper  than  this."  I  waved  my 
hand  to  indicate  the  expensive  crow's-nest  of  my  future 
father-in-law. 

Morse  laughed. 

"It  wouldn't  have  made  the  least  difference,"  he  said. 
"The  man  couldn't  hurt  me  at  the  time  because  he  had  to 
obey  the  orders  of  the  villainous  Society  at  his  back.  The 
old  Marquis  da  Silva,  who  is  simply  a  tool  in  their  hands, 
insisted  that  I  was  not  to  be  even  interfered  with  in  any 
way  until  the  two  years  of  grace  from  my  first  warning 
were  up.    Though  their  object  was  to  get  hold  of  half  my 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  201 

fortune,  and  Midwinter's  to  revenge  himself  personally  upon 
me,  the  Society  and  he  didn't  dare  do  anything  until  the 
moment  struck.  There  were  too  many  political  issues  still 
involved. 

"That's  why  I  made  Mr.  Mark  Antony  Midwinter  dance 
out  of  the  Ritz  Hotel  on  that  night." 

"It's  what  Arthur  Winstanley  said." 

"That  young  man  will  go  far.  Now,  Kirby,  I  think  you 
understand  everything,  and  you've  got  to  throw  in  your 
lot  with  Juanita  and  me,  for  a  time  at  any  rate,  and  never 
say  you  didn't  know  what  you  were  up  against." 

I  took  a  glass  of  claret  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"I  understand  the  facts,  as  you  say,  but  I  don't  under- 
stand you.  Allowing  for  all  your  natural  and  deep  anxiety 
about  Juanita,  I  simply  fail  to  understand  why  you  regard 
this  Midwinter  and  his  companion  or  companions  with  such 
apprehension.  Surely  you  could  have  the  man  locked  up 
to-morrow,  knowing  what  you  know  about  him." 

Morse  sighed,  with  a  sort  of  gentle  patience. 

"A  few  more  facts,"  he  said;  "and  do  reflect  that  it's 
most  improbable  that  a  man  of  my  intelligence  and  resources 
should  act  as  he  has  done  without  being  sure  of  what 
he  was  doing.  In  the  first  place,  I've  had  Midwinter 
watched  by  the  most  famous  detectives  in  America,  watched 
for  years.  None  of  these  people  have  ever  been  able  quite 
to  bowl  him  out — a  simile  from  your  English  game  of 
cricket.  But  three  of  the  most  trusted  and  acute  agents 
have  lost  their  lives  during  these  investigations,  and  lost 
them  in  a  singularly  unpleasant  manner." 


202  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

He  sighed  again,  this  time  wearily,  and  I  saw  that  his 
face  was  old  and  without  interest  or  hope. 

"What  on  earth  is  the  use,"  he  went  on,  "of  telling  you 
all  I  know  about  this  man?  Sir" — his  voice  began  to  rise, 
and  a  light  came  into  the  dark  depths  of  his  eyes — "Sir,  if 
I  saw  his  corpse  before  me  now,  I  wouldn't  believe  him 
dead  or  his  power  for  evil  ended  until  I  had  hacked  his  head 
from  his  shoulders  with  my  own  hand!  You  cannot,  I  say 
you  simply  cannot  realize  or  understand  the  fiendish  in- 
genuity, persistence,  and  icy  cruelty  of  this  being,  for  I 
will  not  insult  our  common  humanity  by  calling  it  a  man. 
If  Juanita  ever  gets  into  his  hands — " 

His  mouth,  his  whole  face,  was  working,  I  thought  he 
was  going  to  have  a  fit,  and  truth  to  tell,  something  icy  began 
to  congeal  around  my  own  heart. 

"Calm  yourself,  sir,"  I  said,  as  authoritatively  as  I 
could.  "Juanita  is  doubly  safe  now  that  I  am  here,  and  as 
for  IVIidwinter,  he'll  never  approach  us  here.  It's  beyond 
the  wit  of  mortal  man,  and,  meanwhile,  I'll  see  that  he's 
apprehended  and  removed  from  all  power  of  doing  harm. 
I  am  only  a  young  man,  Mr.  Morse,  but  I'm  rather  a  power 
in  the  land.  You  see  I  have  an  important  newspaper  at 
my  back,  and  as  for  you,  who  have  already  made  the  Gov- 
ernment feed  out  of  your  hand  in  the  matter  of  these  towers, 
you  should  have  gone  to  the  Home  Secretary  in  the  first 
instance.  At  any  rate,  we'll  go  together,  and  believe  me, 
we  shall  be  listened  to." 

"I  thank  you,  my  dear  boy,"  he  replied  with  an  effort, 
"but  there  is  such  a  thing  as  Fate,  and  Fate  has  whispered 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  203 

in  my  ear.  I  am  not  naturally  a  superstitious  man,  but 
during  a  life  spent  in  strange  places  among  strange  people 
I  have  learnt  to  be  very  wary  of  a  material  interpretation 
of  life.  But  this  I  will  say,  whatever  I  feel  about  myself, 
however  my  precautions  might  fail,  I  believe  that  my  dear 
daughter  will  win  to  safety  in  the  end,  that  the  power  of 
evil  will  be  overcome,  and  that  you  will  be  her  savior." 

I  could  have  sworn,  as  he  shook  hands  and  bade  me 
good-night,  there  was  a  tear  in  the  great  man's  eye,  and  I 
wondered  how  long  it  was  since  any  one  had  seen  that  in 
this  master  of  millions  and  of  men. 

A  picturesque  young  Chinaman,  a  valet  in  flowing  Orien- 
tal robes,  who  spoke  English  with  the  most  appalling  cockney 
accent  you  ever  heard  in  your  life,  conducted  me  to  a  charm- 
ing bedroom,  provided  me  with  everything  necessary,  and 
m  five  minutes  I  fell  into  a  deep,  dreamless  sleep. 

A  really  full  day,  wasn't  it? 

When  I  woke  up  the  next  morning  my  room  was  flooded 
with  sunshine  from  a  dome  in  the  ceiling. 

Seated  upon  my  bed,  and  balancing  I  cup  of  tea,  was 
Master  Bill  Rolston.  His  hair  was  restored  to  its  natural 
red,  his  nose  normal,  and  his  high  cheek-bones  were  gone 
On  each  side  of  his  chubby  face  his  transparent  ears  stood 
out  at  right  angles,  and  his  button  of  a  mouth  was  wreathed 
in  a  genial  smile. 

"Good  old  Pu-Yi  came  for  me  about  two  o'clock  this 
morning.  Sir  Thomas,  and  told  me  all  that  had  happened. 
I  say,  sir,  what  a  man  to  have  on  the  staff  of  the  Evening 


204  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Special!  What  an  intellect!" — I  seemed  to  have  heard  that 
phrase  before.  "Why,  we'd  have  him  dictating  to  Cabinet 
Ministers  within  a  year!" 

I  lay  idly  watching  this  brilliant  and  faithful  boy;  jour- 
nalist once,  I  reflected,  journalist  forever.  There's  no  get- 
ting it  out  of  the  blood,  and  here,  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  when 
many  of  us  have  faded  away  from  Fleet  Street  forever, 
will  be  the  biggest  of  us  all. 

I  was  surprised  to  find  that  Bill  was  distinctly  on  the  side 
of  Gideon  Morse  in  his  anticipation  of  evil.  We  argued  it 
out  while  I  was  dressing  and  I  insisted  that  the  City  was 
impregnable. 

"To  all  ordinary  appearance,  to  all  ordinary  efforts,  yes. 
But  I  shall  never  change  my  belief  that  there's  nothing 
that  human  wit  can  invent  that  human  wit  cannot  circum- 
vent." 

After  breakfast,  which  I  took  alone,  the  servant  led  me 
to  a  great  white  house  standing  among  conservatories,  which 
I  learned  was  almost  an  exact  reproduction  of  the  Palacete 
Mendoza,  the  residence  of  Gideon  Morse  at  Rio.  And  there, 
in  her  own  charming  sitting-room,  fragrant  with  flowers  and 
stamped  in  a  hundred  ways  with  her  personality,  Juanita 
was  waiting.  She  was  radiant.  Happiness  lay  about  her  like 
sunbeams.  I  never  saw  any  one  more  changed  than  she 
was  from  the  girl  I  had  met  the  night  before. 

"Come,  dearest,"  she  said,  "and  I'll  show  you  some  of 
our  wonders.  I  could  not  show  you  all  of  them  in  one  day. 
Oh,  Tom,  isn't  it  all  splendid,  couldn't  you  sing  and  shout 
for  joy!" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  205 

I  helped  her  into  a  fur  coat — for  it  was  bitter  cold  out- 
side, though  the  wind  of  the  night  before  had  dropped 
— and  was  provided  with  one  myself  as  we  left  the  house. 
Standing  in  the  patio  was  a  little  two-seated  automobile, 
a  tiny  toy  of  a  thing  run  from  electric  storage  batteries, 
which  made  no  noise  louder  than  the  humming  of  a  wasp. 
We  got  into  this  and  Juanita  was  like  a  child  as  she  pulled 
the  starting  lever  and  we  rolled  away. 

I  have  said  I  woke  to  find  my  bedroom  full  of  sunlight, 
but,  as  we  glided  down  an  arcade  of  conservatories,  upon 
each  side  of  the  road,  so  that  the  illusion  of  passing  among 
a  palm  grove  was  almost  complete,  I  noticed  that  dark  and 
angry  clouds  were  gathering  not  far  above  our  heads,  and 
it  was  through  one  single  aperture  that  the  sunlight  poured. 
The  effect  of  this,  when  we  ran  through  the  tunneled  arch- 
way and  came  out  into  a  great  square,  was  curious.  A 
third  of  the  buildings  which  towered  up  on  every  side  were 
bathed  in  glory,  the  rest,  gray,  sullen,  and  throwing  shadows 
of  sable  upon  the  lawns,  gravel  sweeps,  and  parquet  flooring. 
We  investigated  a  dozen  marvels  of  which  I  shall  not  speak 
here.  The  whole  experience  was  a  dream  of  luxury  so  won- 
derful, and  so  fantastic  also,  that  my  readers  must  wait  for 
William  Rolston's  book,  now  nearing  completion.  It  was 
impossible  to  believe  that  we  were  actually  walking,  mo- 
toring, more  than  two  thousand  feet  above  London  in  a 
little  world  of  our  own  which  bore  no  relation  whatever  to 
ordinary  human  life. 

This  was  especially  borne  in  upon  me  with  overwhelming 
force  when  we  had  ascended  the  steps  of  a  tower  and  came 


2o6  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

out  into  a  glass  chamber  on  the  roof,  where  an  old  Chinese 
gentleman  with  tortoise-shell  spectacles  showed  us  the  great 
telescope  which  Morse  had  installed.  Following  the  shift- 
ing path  of  sunlight,  I  got  a  dim  glimpse  of  the  English 
Channel  over  a  far-flung  champaign  of  fertile  woods  and 
downs,  studded  here  and  there  with  toy  towns  the  size  of 
threepenny-pieces.  Once,  but  only  for  a  moment,  I  made 
out  the  great  towers  of  Canterbury  Cathedral,  but  the  sun 
shifted  and  the  vision  passed.  London  itself,  brought 
immediately  to  our  feet,  was  an  astonishing  sight,  but  as 
every  one  has  seen  the  photographs  taken  from  aeroplanes 
I  will  not  dilate  upon  it,  though  it  differed  in  many  ways 
from  these. 

Perhaps  the  most  pleasing  sight  of  all  was  that  of  Rich- 
mond Park,  where  the  winter  Fair  had  just  begun.  We 
could  see  the  roundabouts,  the  swings,  and  so  forth,  with 
great  clearness,  and  even,  as  the  wind  freshened,  catch  a 
faint  buzzing  noise  from  the  steam  organs.  Then  a  cap- 
tive balloon  rose  up,  I  suppose  a  thousand  feet,  and  some 
quarter  of  a  mile  away.  With  powerful  field  glasses  we 
could  see  the  big  basket  crammed  with  adventurous  trip- 
pers, till  she  was  hauled  down  again  to  make  another 
ascent  and  add  a  few  more  pounds  to  the  profits  of  her 
proprietors. 

I  was  quite  tired  when  we  went  back  to  the  house  to 
lunch. 

During  the  meal,  which  was  long  and  elaborate,  Morse 
showed  a  side  of  his  nature  I  had  never  before  seen.  He 
was  not  jovial  or  in  high  spirits — distinctly  not  that — but 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  207 

he  was  strangely  tender  and  human.  I  realized  the  immense 
love  he  had  for  Juanita,  and  wondered  how  he  could  ever 
bear  to  see  her  love  me.  But  he  was  kindness  itself — 
like  a  father,  to  the  interloper  who  had  stormed  his  fortress, 
and  I  always  like  to  think  of  him  as  he  was  on  that  after- 
noon, full  of  anecdotes  about  his  youth,  of  Juanita's  mother, 
of  the  old  days  in  Brazil.  It  was  my  formal  whole-hearted 
reception  into  his  life.  Henceforth  I  was  to  be — ^he  said 
it  once  in  well  and  delicately-chosen  words — a  son  to  him, 
who  had  never  had  a  son. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  back  to  my  own  quarters,  which 
consisted  of  a  villa  at  the  end  of  the  Palace  gardens,  where 
I  was  lodged  with  Rolston,  and  attended  by  various  well- 
trained  Chinamen.  I  had  rarely  seen  a  more  delightful 
bachelor  dwelling.  I  took  a  cup  of  tea  with  Bill  about 
four  o'clock.  It  was  now  quite  dark,  and  the  bitter  wind 
was  rising  again,  but  heavy  curtains  of  tussore  silk  were 
pulled  over  the  windows,  a  fire  of  yew  logs  burned  in  the 
open  hearth,  and  softly  shaded  electric  lights  all  combined 
to  produce  the  coziest  and  most  homelike  effect  it  is  pos- 
sible to  imagine. 

It  was  then  that  a  man  came  in  to  say  that  Mr.  Pu-Yi 
begged  the  honor  of  an  audience. 

Bill  vanished,  and  my  thin,  ascetic  friend  glided  in,  and 
at  my  invitation  sank  into  a  chair  by  the  fire.  I  don't 
think,  in  the  whole  course  of  my  life,  I  could  recall  a  con- 
versation which  touched,  interested,  and  excited  my  admira- 
tion more  than  this,  and  I  have  met  every  one  "from  Em- 
peror to  Clown."    He  apologized  profoundly  for  his  seem- 


2o8  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

ing  treachery.  With  a  wealth  of  lucid  self-analysis  and  the 
power  of  presenting  a  clear  statement  which  I  have  seldom 
heard  equaled,  he  showed  how  he  was  torn  between  his 
new-born  debtorship  to  me,  his  loyalty  to  Morse,  for  whom 
he  professed  a  profound  esteem,  and — here  he  hinted  with 
extraordinary  finesse — his  mute  adoration  for  Juanita. 

"It  was.  Sir  Thomas,  touch  and  go,  of  course.  I  was  in 
the  position  of  a  surgeon  who  has  to  risk  everything  upon 
one  heroic  stroke  of  the  knife.  I  did  so,  and  behold,  all 
the  conflicting  elements  are  reconciled.  The  pieces  of  the 
puzzle  have  come  together." 

"My  friend,"  I  said,  "betray  me  twenty  million  times 
if  you  can  bring  me  such  happiness  as  you  have  brought. 
Besides,  it  wasn't  a  betrayal,  it  was  a  great  brain  leading 
a  smaller  one  to  its  appointed  goal." 

We  talked  a  little  more,  he  drank  tea,  he  smoked,  and, 
to  my  growing  discomfort,  I  found  in  him  the  same  note  of 
pessimism  and  apprehension  that  Morse  could  not  conceal, 
and  Rolston  himself  had  partially  revealed. 

"But  I  icon't  believe  that  any  harm  can  come  to  Miss 
Morse,"  I  said,  almost  angrily. 

The  thin  lips  smiled. 

"That  I  never  said,  Sir  Thomas.  There  are  no  indica- 
tions of  that.  You  and  your  lady  are  in  peril,  but  you 
will  win  through." 

"Confound  it,  man,  your  liver  must  be  out  of  order. 
It  seems  to  me  that  captivity  in  this  magnificent  bird-cage 
has  the  same  effect  on  every  one.  I  shall  get  Morse  to 
come  and  hunt  with  me  in  the  Shires.    I've  got  a  nice  little 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  209 

box  in  Gloucestershire,  close  to  Chipping  Norton,  and  by- 
Jove,  Pu-Yi,  I'll  mount  you  and  give  you  a  run  with  the 
Heythrope.  You  talk  as  if  you  actually  knew  something. 
As  if  you  had  information  of  a  calamity." 

*'I  hear  it  in  the  wind,"  he  said  strangely,  and  his  voice 
was  like  a  withered  leaf  blown  before  the  wind.  Then 
he  left  me. 

I  dined  with  Juanita  and  her  father.  Bill  was  asked  too, 
and  he  kept  my  girl,  and  sometimes  even  Mr.  Morse,  in 
fits  of  laughter  with  stories  of  his  short  but  erratic  career, 
and  especially  a  racy  account  of  his  illicit  opium-selling 
down  below. 

"You  see,  sir,"  he  said,  "you  brought  it  on  yourself,  by 
kidnaping  me  in  the  first  instance.  I  had  to  get  my  own 
back." 

Morse's  face  clouded  over  for  a  moment. 

"It  was  a  disgraceful  thing  to  do,"  he  said.  "I  quite  admit 
it,  but  had  the  necessity  arisen  I'd  have  kidnaped  George 
Robey  or  the  Prince  of  Wales,"  and  from  that  moment 
always  I  seemed  to  see  that  a  faint  but  perceptible  shadow 
was  creeping  over  his  spirits. 

We  had  a  little  music,  in  a  charming  room  built  for 
the  purpose.  Juanita  played  upon  the  guitar  and  sang  little 
Spanish  love  songs.  Bill  "obliged"  with  a  ditty  which  he 
said  was  a  favorite  of  the  revered  Charles  Lamb,  which 
seemed  to  consist  entirely  of  the  following  lines: 

"Diddle-diddle-dumpHng,  my  son  John 
Went  to  bed  with  his  breeches  on," 


2IO  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

I  think  that  when  Juanita  said  good-night  to  us  all — and 
to  me  privately  in  the  passage — she  went  to  bed  quite 
happy  and  cheerful. 

About  half-past  ten  Bill  slipped  off  and  I  remained  to 
smoke  a  final  cigar  with  Morse, 

"I'm  low,  Thomas,"  he  said,  "I'm  very  low  to-night." 

I  made  him  take  a  little  whisky  and  potash — a  thing  he 
rarely  did. 

"It's  the  unnatural  life,  sir,  that  you've  condemned  your- 
self to  recently.  You  come  out  of  this  and  hunt  with  me 
in  Gloucestershire  and  I'll  protect  you  as  well  as  you're 
protected  here,  and  you'll  get  as  right  as  rain." 

"You're  very  kind,"  he  replied,  "but — take  care  of  her, 
Kirby,  for  God's  sake,  take  care  of  her.  She'll  have  no 
one  else  in  the  world  but  you  if  they  get  me  or  Pu-Yi." 

I  was  about  to  expostulate  again  when  the  door  opened 
and  Boss  Mulligan  slouched  in. 

"Been  all  round  the  City,  governor,  with  the  usual  patrol. 
Everything  quiet,  nothing  unusual  anywhere.  All  the  serv- 
ants have  given  in  their  tallies  and  are  safe  in  their 
quarters." 

Morse  looked  at  me. 

"That's  our  system,  Tom,"  he  said.  "At  a  certain  hour 
all  the  servants  go  to  the  lower  stage,  except  those  that  may 
be  urgently  wanted.  For  instance,  there's  a  fellow  in  your 
house  to  valet  you  to-night.  Juanita  has  her  little  Spanish 
maid,  and  I  think  Pu-Yi  keeps  some  one.  Otherwise  we 
are  all  to  ourselves  up  here.  All  the  lift  doors  are  locked 
on  the  second  stage  and  so  is  the  central  staircase.    Mulligan 


1 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  211 

here  is  on  guard  all  night  in  the  room  where  you  saw  him." 

"An'  watchin'  ye  from  the  ind  of  me  eye,  Sorr  Thomas," 
said  the  genial  ruffian,  "av  ye'll  belave  ut." 

''You're  a  good  actor,  Mulligan,"  I  said — it  seemed  about 
the  only  thing  I  could  say. 

"Sure,  an'  I  am  that,"  he  said,  "I  am  that,  sorr,  but 
I'm  a  bether  doer.    An'  av  ye'd  reely  bin  staling  in — " 

His  immense  fist  clenched  itself  and  he  shook  it  in  my 
direction. 

"Mulligan,  go  back  to  the  guard-room,"  said  Morse, 
"you're  drunk." 

The  giant's  face  changed  from  ferocity  into  pained  sur- 
prise, 

"But  av  course,  sorr,"  he  said,  "it's  me  usual  time,  as 
your  honor  must  know.    But  begob,  I'm  efficient!" 

The  mingled  grin  and  glare  on  his  countenance  when  IMr. 
Mulligan  went  away  left  no  doubt  in  my  mind  about  that. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  certainly  not  drunk,  and  I 
hope  efficient,  I  left  the  Palacete  Mendoza,  and  walked 
through  the  gardens  to  the  villa.  Morse  himself  barred 
the  door  after  me. 

It  was  bitter,  aching  cold  and  the  wind  was  razor-keen. 
Gaunt  wreaths  of  mist  were  all  around  like  a  legion  of 
ghosts,  and  I  realized  that  the  clouds  were  descending  upon 
us,  and  soon  I  should  not  be  able  to  see  a  yard  before  me, 
though  the  electric  lamps  that  never  went  out  all  night,  over 
the  whole  City,  glowed  with  a  dim  blueness  here  and  there 
through  the  fog.  ' 

However,  I  found  the  villa  all  right,  and  my  Chinese  boy 


212  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

waiting  in  the  hall.  He  took  my  coat,  saw  that  the  fires 
in  the  sitting-room  and  the  adjoining  bedroom  were  made 
up,  and  then  I  told  him  he  might  be  off  to  his  quarters  on 
the  second  stage,  for  which  he  seemed  extremely  thankful. 

I  don't  suppose  he  had  been  gone  more  than  a  minute 
when  the  door  of  my  sitting-room  opened  and  Rolston  came 
in  quickly.  He  was  wearing  a  dressing-gown  and  pyjamas 
and  his  hair  was  all  rough  like  one  recently  aroused  from 
sleep. 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter?"  I  said. 

"I  undressed,"  he  said,  "in  my  bedroom,  which  is  just 
above  yours  as  you  know,  and  fell  asleep  in  my  chair  with 
all  the  lights  on,  I  woke  only  a  short  time  ago,  and  before 
switching  off  the  lamps  I  went  to  the  window  to  see  what 
sort  of  a  night  it  was." 

"Hellish,  if  you  want  to  know." 

"The  light  streamed  out  upon  a  great  curtain  of  mist, 
almost  like  the  projector  lamp  upon  a  screen  of  a  kinema. 
Sir  Thomas,  as  I  stood  there  I  could  swear  that  something 
big,  black  and  oblong  sank  down  from  that  darkness  above, 
passed  through  my  zone  of  light  and  disappeared  in  the 
blackness  below." 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  what  sort  of  a  thing?"  J 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then  he  said:  ' 

"Almost  like  a  group  of  statuary,  though  I  only  saw  it  for 
a  mere  instant." 

He  had  obviously  been  half  dreaming  when  he  went  to 
the  window,  his  eyes,  even  now,  were  heavy  with  sleep. 

"Simply  and  solely  a  trick  of  the  wind  upon  the  mist, 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  213 

and  your  own  figure  interposing  between  the  light  and  the 
window,  and  throwing  a  momentary  shade  on  the  swaying 
white  curtain  outside.  The  mist's  as  thick  as  linen  and 
it  changes  every  moment.  You  go  to  bed  properly,  and 
sleep  the  sleep  of  the  just." 

He  didn't  attempt  to  argue,  but  looked  a  little  ashamed 
of  himself  for  obtruding  for  such  a  trivial  reason.  Ten 
minutes  afterwards  I  was  also  in  bed  and  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER   TWELVE 

I  HAD  ordered  my  Chinese  boy  to  wake  me  at  eight.  In 
one  corner  of  the  Grand  Square  was  a  beautifully  fitted 
gymnasium  with  a  swimming-bath  adjoining.  I  proposed 
three-quarters  of  an  hour's  vigorous  exercise  before  dressing. 

At  it  happens  I  generally  wake  more  or  less  at  the  time 
I  want  to.  This  morning,  however,  it  was  half-past  eight. 
There  was  no  sound  of  Chang  whatever.  I  got  out  of  bed, 
put  on  a  sweater,  Norfolk  jacket,  flannel  trousers,  and 
tennis  shoes — I  had  sent  for  a  portmanteau  of  clothes  from 
the  "Golden  Swan" — went  across  the  hall  and  let  myself  out 
into  the  gardens. 

Then  I  hesitated  in  amazement.  A  thick,  heavy,  impene- 
trable mist  hid  everything  from  sight.  It  seemed  as  solid 
as  wool.  One  literally  had  to  push  one's  way  through  it, 
and  when  I  say  that  I  couldn't  see  more  than  a  yard  before 
my  face,  I  mean  it  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  words.  Still, 
I  remembered  that  I  have  a  good  sense  of  topography,  and 
I  was  quite  confident  that  I  could  find  my  way  to  the 
central  Square,  where  there  would  be  sure  to  be  people  about 
whom  I  could  ask. 

From  my  front  door  there  was  a  good  hundred  and  twenty 
yards  of  wide  gravel  path  to  the  Palacete  Mendoza.  I 
sprinted  up  this  in  less  than  twenty  seconds  I  should  say, 
and  then  warily  turned  into  the  palm-tree  grove — the  great 

214 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  215 

sheets  of  plated  glass  on  either  side  of  the  way  were  in 
place  now,  but  I  knew  where  I  was  because  of  the  different 
quality  of  the  ground,  which  was  here  paved  with  wood 
blocks.  Soon,  a  faint  gray  mass  to  my  right,  the  palace 
itself  loomed  up,  but  the  blanket  of  mist  was  too  thick  for 
me  to  discern  windows  or  doors.  One  could  see  nothing 
but  the  gray  hint  of  mass. 

The  curious  thing  was  that  one  could  hear  nothing  either. 
That  had  not  struck  me  as  I  did  my  sprint,  but  now  it  did, 
and  most  forcibly.  Of  course  there  was  no  sound  of  wind 
— had  there  been  any  wind  we  should  not  have  been  buried 
in  the  very  heart  of  this  fog — thicker  and  more  sticky  than 
anything  I  had  ever  experienced  in  the  Alps  themselves. 
But  there  were  no  sounds  of  occupation  such  as  an  exten- 
sive place  like  the  City  might  have  been  expected  to  pro- 
duce at  this  hour,  and  in  fact,  as  I  realized,  did  produce, 
when  I  remembered  yesterday.  The  place  was  never  noisy. 
It  was  a  haunt  of  peace  if  ever  there  was  one.  But  the 
sound  of  gardeners  and  servants  going  about  their  daily 
toil,  the  distant  throbbing  of  an  engine  perhaps,  a  subdued 
voice  giving  an  order,  the  plashing  of  foimtains,  and  the 
strains  of  music,  all  these  were  utterly  and  entirely  absent. 
It  was  as  though  the  mist  killed  not  only  vision  but  hearing 
also.    I  might  have  been  on  the  top  of  Mont  Blanc. 

"What  little  town  bj'  harbor  or  sea-shore 
Is  empty  of  its  folk  this  pious  morn?" 

I  quoted  to  myself  with  a  laugh,  just  as  I  entered  the  arched 
tunnel  wide  enough  for  two  coaches  to  be  driven  under  it 
abreast,  which  I  knew  led  to  Grand  Square. 


2i6  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

I  laughed,  and  then  quite  suddenly  all  laughter  went  out 
of  me.  I  couldn't  explain  it  at  the  moment,  but  the  mist, 
the  loneliness,  my  whole  surroimdings,  seemed  quite  hor- 
rible. 

Surely  something  had  passed  me?  I  called  out,  and  my 
voice  seemed  like  the  bleating  of  a  sheep.  Of  course,  it 
was  illusion.  My  nerves  had  suddenly  gone  wrong.  But, 
honestly,  I  felt  that  there  was  something  nasty  in  the  atmos- 
phere, nasty  from  a  psychic  point  of  view  I  mean.  There 
are  moments  when  the  human  soul  turns  sick  and  retches 
with  disgust,  and  I  experienced  such  a  moment  now.  I 
think  it  was  exactly  then  that  I  knew,  though  I  wouldn't 
allow  myself  to  believe  it,  that  I  knew  inwardly  all  was 
not  well.  I  walked  on  and  my  india-rubber  shoes  seemed 
to  make  a  sly,  unpleasant  noise — it  was  the  only  one  I 
heard  even  now. 

I  could  see  nothing,  I  was  quite  uncertain  of  where  I 
was,  so  I  turned  and  walked  straight  to  the  right  until, 
from  the  impact  of  the  air  upon  my  face,  I  knew  that  I 
was  within  a  yard  or  so  of  some  building.  This  was  cor- 
rect. My  hand  touched  what  seemed  like  stonework,  and 
glancing  up  I  became  aware  that  a  building  rose  high 
above. 

I  followed  this  along,  keeping  my  hand  on  the  stone,  mov- 
ing it  round  projecting  buttresses  and  going  with  great  cau- 
tion. This  insect-like  progression  seemed  to  be  endless.  I 
took  out  my  watch,  which  I  had  shoved  into  the  breast 
pocket  of  my  Norfolk  jacket.  It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock, 
and  not  a  single  sound! 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  217 

A  second  or  two  afterwards  I  came  to  a  balustrade,  felt 
my  way  along  it,  and  found  that  I  was  at  the  foot  of  a 
broad  flight  of  steps.  There  seemed  something  vaguely 
familiar  here,  and  as  I  ran  up  them  I  began  to  be  sure  that 
I  was  at  the  library.  I  knew  that  Pu-Yi  lived  somewhere 
on  the  premises  and  I  felt  all  over  the  great  iron-studded 
door  until  I  came  to  the  small  postern  wicket  through  which 
one  generally  entered.  This  was  locked,  but  a  bell-pull  of 
wrought  iron  hung  at  the  side  and  I  pulled  at  it  lustily  for 
a  considerable  time. 

It  opened  with  a  jerk  and  Pu-Yi  stood  there  in  his  skull 
cap  with  the  coral  button  on  the  top  and  wrapped  in  a 
bear-skin  robe. 

"Thank  goodness  I've  foimd  some  one,"  I  said.  "I've  lost 
my  way.  I  was  going  to  the  gymnasium,  to  exercise  a  little 
and  then  have  a  swim.  My  boy  didn't  turn  up  so  I  came 
out  by  myself." 

"Come  in,  come  in.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  peering  out  at 
the  white  curtain.  "What  a  dreadful  morning!  I've  been 
here  some  months  now,  but  I  have  never  seen  it  so  bad  as 
this.  I  daresay  it  will  blow  off  by  nine  o'clock  or  so  when 
the  sun  gets  up." 

"It's  nine  o'clock  now,"  I  told  him. 

He  started  violently. 

"Then  my  servant  also  is  at  fault,"  he  said.  "I 
ordered  my  coffee  for  eight.  I  was  reading  far  into  the 
night  and  must  have  overslept  myself.  This  is  very  curi- 
ous." 

"Do  you  know,  I  don't  quite  like  it,  Pu-Yi.    I've  come 


2i8  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

all  the  way  from  the  pavilion  in  the  Palace  gardens  and 
haven't  heard  the  least  sound  of  any  sort  whatever," 

We  passed  through  a  lobby  and  entered  the  great  library, 
which  was  cold  and  gray  as  a  tomb. 

Pu-Yi  snapped  at  a  switch,  then  at  another.  Nothing 
happened. 

"The  electric  light  is  off!"  he  cried.  "What  an  extraor- 
dinary thing!" 

"Mine  wasn't,"  I  said.  "I  got  out  of  bed  and  dressed 
by  it." 

He  did  not  reply,  but  took  down  the  speaking  part  of 
a  telephone  and  turned  the  handle  of  the  box.  In  that 
gray  light  his  thin  face,  with  its  expression  of  strained 
attention,  was  one  I  shall  not  easily  forget. 

He  turned  the  handle  again,  angrily.  Again  an  interval 
of  silence. 

"The  telephone  is  out  of  order,"  he  said,  and  we  looked 
at  each  other  with  a  question  in  our  eyes. 

"Well,  I'm  confoundedly  glad  I've  found  you,"  I  said. 

"We  must  look  into  this  at  once.  Sir  Thomas.  I  can 
find  my  way  perfectly  well  to  one  of  the  lifts  at  the  other 
end  of  the  Square.  We  must  summon  assistance.  One 
moment."  He  vanished  for  a  minute  and  returned  with 
something  cool  and  shining  which  he  pressed  into  my  hand. 
It  was  a  venomous  ten-shot  Colt  automatic.  "You  never 
know,"  he  whispered. 

We  hurried  across  the  great  Square,  passing  by  the  central 
fountain  basins,  though  the  fountains  were  not  playing, 
which  added  to  our  uneasiness.     Everything  was  deathly 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  219 

still  until  we  came  to  the  little  lift  pavilion.  I  half  ex- 
pected the  thing  to  stick,  but  it  glided  down  easily  enough. 
As  if  my  companion  read  my  thoughts  he  said: 

"All  these  small  lifts  are  not  electrical,  but  are  worked 
by  hydraulic  power,  the  station  for  which  is  in  the  City 
and  not  below  on  the  earth." 

I  shall  never  forget  the  extraordinary  sight  as  we  stepped 
from  the  lift.  The  mist  here  was  nothing  like  so  thick  as 
it  was  above.  This  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  a  hundred 
feet  above  our  heads  there  was  the  immense  ceiling  of 
steel  plates  and  girders  upon  which  the  City  rested.  As  I 
said  before,  on  all  three  sides  this  second  service  City  was 
open  to  the  air,  but  not  above.  Consequently  the  mist 
moved  in  tall  white  shapes  like  ghosts;  it  entirely  sur- 
rounded one  group  of  huts  and  left  another  great  vista 
of  buildings  plain  to  the  eye.  Here  a  gaudily  painted  gable 
thrust  itself  out  of  the  white  sheet;  there,  through  a 
proscenium  of  clinging  wool,  one  saw  the  gray  interior  of 
a  machine-room.  A  chill  twilight  brooded  everywhere. 
There  wasn't  a  single  lamp  burning,  and  from  one  end  to 
the  other  lay  the  desolation  of  utter  silence. 

I  leant  against  the  jamb  of  the  lift  door,  and,  despite 
the  cold,  the  sweat  ran  down  my  body  in  a  stream. 

Pu-Yi  raised  a  thin  arm  over  his  head  and  it  seemed  to 
clutch  crookedly  at  the  somber  panoply  aloft. 

A  high,  thin  wail  came  from  his  parted  lips  and  went 
mournfully  away  down  the  deserted  streets  and  empty  habi- 
tations. 

For  myself,  I  had  been  so  stunned  that  I  couldn't  think, 


220  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

but  my  friend's  despairing  call  seemed  to  jerk  some  cog- 
wheel within  the  brain  and  start  again  the  mechanism  of 
thought. 

I  gripped  him  by  the  shoulder. 

'There  isn't  a  soul  here,"  I  rasped  out,  "What  does 
it  mean,  what  on  earth  does  it  mean?" 

"There  should  be  three  hundred  at  least,"  he  answered. 

I  broke  away  at  a  run,  flung  open  the  first  door  I  came 
to  and  peered  in.  It  was  some  sort  of  a  sleeping-room,  there 
were  bunks  and  couches  all  around  the  walls.  Each  one 
of  them  was  empty.  I  had  time  to  see  that,  and  also  that 
a  stand  of  short  carbines  and  cutlasses  was  full  of  weapons. 

Then  I  had  to  back  out  quickly  for  the  late  inmates  had 
left  an  odorous  legacy  behind  them. 

Pu-Yi  faced  me. 

"That  was  one  of  the  patrol  rooms,"  he  said. 

Then  I  remembered  our  coming  two  days  ago. 

"Mulligan!"  I  cried.  "Nobody  could  get  here  except 
through  the  guard-room,  nobody  could  leave  here  except 
through  that,  could  they?" 

"Not  unless  they  threw  themselves  from  the  side  of  the 
tower." 

"Well,  it's  quite  impossible  to  believe  that  three  hundred 
people  have  committed  suicide  during  the  night  without  a 
sound  being  heard.  Quick!  let's  get  to  the  bottom  of 
this."  I 

Pu-Yi  led.  He  didn't  seem  really  to  run,  only  to  glide 
along  the  ghostly  streets  and  passages.  But  I  had  hard 
work  to  keep  up  with  him,  aU  the  same.    My  mouth  felt 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  221 

as  if  it  had  been  sucking  a  brass  tap.  The  most  deadly 
fear  clutched  at  my  heart — that  noiseless,  pattering  run 
through  the  deserted  town  in  the  air,  accompanied  always  by 
the  mouthing,  gibbering  ghosts  of  the  mist,  was  appalling. 

We  dashed  down  the  last  corridor  and  were  brought  up 
by  a  stout  door.  Pu-Yi  bent  down  to  the  handle,  turned 
it  gently,  and — it  opened. 

We  tiptoed  into  that  room.  Directly  I  was  over  the 
threshold,  the  spiritual  odor  of  death,  of  violent  death,  came 
to  me. 

A  fire  of  logs  was  still  burning  redly  upon  the  hearth. 
For  the  rest  the  room  was  lit  only  by  its  skylight,  through 
which  filtered  a  dirty  and  opaque  illumination  which  was 
only  sufficient  to  give  every  object  a  shape  of  the  sinister 
or  bizarre.  The  red  glow  from  the  fire  glistened  upon  the 
polished  screen  of  steel  which  divided  the  room  into  two 
portions.    And  it  also  fell,  redly,  upon  something  else. 

This  was  the  corpse  of  Mulligan, 

It  was  seated  in  a  chair  which  had  been  pulled  up  to  the 
screen  with  its  back  towards  it,  as  if  in  mockery  and  deri- 
sion of  its  power  to  keep  it. 

He  had  been  strangled  by  a  yard  of  catgut,  twisted,  tour- 
niquet-fashion, by  a  piece  of  stick  at  the  back  of  the  neck. 
The  catgut  had  sunk  far  into  the  flesh,  reducing  the  neck 
to  less  than  half  its  ordinary  size,  and  the  great  staring  head 
hung  down  upon  one  shoulder. 

One  of  the  logs  in  the  grate  fell  with  a  crackle  of  sparks. 
For  the  rest,  dead  silence. 

'The}^  have  come,"  Pu-Yi  said  simply. 


222  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"But  Avhat  has  happened?"  I  whispered,  my  throat  was 
so  dry  that  the  sound  was  like  the  rustling  of  paper. 

"I  shall  know  soon.  I  am  going  to  find  out.  There  is 
not  a  minute  to  lose.    Can  you,  dare  you,  wait  here — " 

I  nodded  and  he  was  out  of  the  room  in  a  flash.  Upon 
the  dead  man's  table  was  the  usual  array  of  bottles  and 
glasses.  I  took  some  brandy  and  gulped  it  down  and 
my  brain  cleared  instantly.  There  was  a  little  touch  of 
infinite  pathos  even  in  this  hideous  moment,  for  by  the  side 
of  an  empty  glass  I  saw  a  string  of  beads  with  a  little  metal 
crucifix.  The  Irishman,  a  Roman  Catholic  of  course,  must 
have  been  saying  his  prayers  some  time  before  he  met  his 
end.  Somehow  the  thought  comforted  me  and  gave  me 
power  to  act.  I  found  a  knife,  and  cut  the  bonds  that  tied 
the  giant  to  the  chair.  I  lowered  him  reverently  to  the 
floor  and  finally  severed  the  horrible  ligature  around  his 
throat.  An  examination  of  the  steel  door  in  the  screen  of 
bars  showed  that  it  was  securely  locked,  but  the  bunch  of 
keys  which  the  dead  man  usually  carried  upon  a  chain  was 
no  longer  there — the  end  of  the  chain  dangled  from  his 
trousers  pocket. 

While  I  was  doing  these  things  a  most  deadly  appre- 
hension was  standing  specter-like  by  my  side  and  plucking 
with  wan  fingers  at  my  sleeve.  What  had  happened,  what 
might  even  now  be  happening  at  the  Palacete  Mendoza? 

Pu-Yi  whirled  into  the  room.  He  made  no  noise,  it  was 
as  though  a  dried  leaf  had  been  blown  in  by  the  wind.  His 
face  was  transformed.  Every  outline  was  sharpened,  and 
the  color  was  changed  until  it  bore  the  exact  resemblance  to 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  223 

a  mask  of  green  bronze.     In  its  frozen  immobility  it  was 
dead,  yet  awfully  alive,  and  the  eyes  glittered  like  little 
crumbs  of  diamond. 
"Well?" 

"I  know  how  it  has  been  done.  It  is  very  clever,  very 
clever  indeed.  Let  me  tell  you  that  all  the  power  cables 
connecting  us  with  below  have  been  scientifically  cut.  We 
can  neither  telephone  down  to  the  Park  nor  can  we  de- 
scend to  it  in  one  of  the  lifts.  We  are  isolated  up  here  in 
the  clouds." 

"But  the  men,  the  staff?"  I  gasped,  and  then  I  stepped 
back,  staring  down  at  his  hands.  They  were  all  foul  and 
stained  with  blood. 

"Not  far  away,"  he  said,  "there  is  another  body,  that 
of  my  servant,  a  youth  from  my  own  Province,  whom  I 
loved  and  whom  I  was  educating.  He  was  alive  five  minutes 
ago.  He  had  just  time  to  sob  out  the  truth  and  his  repent- 
ance." 

"Tell  me  quickly,  Pu-Yi,  time  presses." 

"They  caught  him  last  night,  so  they  must  have  been 
here  then." 

"Who  caught  him?" 

"He  never  knew.  They  were  masked,  but  there  were 
two  of  them,  and  from  his  description  we  know  very  well 
who  they  were.  Sir  Thomas,  they  tortured  him  for  a 
long  time  until  he  spoke,  promising  him  freedom  if  he  did 
so.  His  story  was  disjointed,  gasped  out  with  his  dying 
breath,  but  I  can  put  it  together  pretty  well. 

"They  made  him  give  an  order  by  telephone  from  the 


224  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

upper  City  that,  immediately,  the  staff  were  to  leave  here 
and  descend  to  the  ground  and  await  further  orders,  all 
but  Mulligan,  who  was  to  remain  at  his  post  until  I  came 
to  him.  This  message  was  delivered  in  Chinese  to  the  man 
at  the  telephone  exchange,  and  the  poor  boy  was  forced 
to  counterfeit  my  voice.  He  was  blindfolded  immediately 
afterwards,  but  he  heard  a  man  speaking,  and  he  said  he 
could  not  have  told  the  voice  from  that  of  Mr.  Morse." 

In  a  flash  I  saw  the  whole  thing,  in  its  devilish  ingenuity, 
its  fiendish  completeness. 

"Then  we  are  absolutely  alone,  you,  I,  Mr.  Rolston,  Mr. 
Morse  and  his  daughter?" 

"And  her  maid,"  he  answered  quietly. 

"At  the  mercy  of — " 

"That  we  have  yet  to  prove.  We  must  throw  all  emo- 
tion, all  fear  aside.  That's  what  we  have  to  do  now.  It's 
diamond  cut  diamond.  There's  one  problem  in  my  mind, 
and  one  only." 

"What's  that,  quick!" 

"I  daresay  that  in  an  hour  I  could  get  down  to  the 
ground.  Among  the  intricate  steelwork  of  this  tower  there's 
a  tiny  circular  staircase  of  open  lattice-work,  sufficient  for 
the  passage  of  one  person  only,  and  even  here,  every  three 
or  four  hundred  feet  the  way  is  barred  by  locked  gates, 
though  I  have  a  master  key  to  all  of  them.  Shall  I  make 
the  attempt,  and  risk  crashing  off  into  space — for  it  is  a 
mere  steeplejack's  way — and  summon  assistance,  which  may 
well  be  another  hour  in  arriving,  for  the  tower  cables  have 
been  scientifically  cut  and  no  one  but  an  electrician  could 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  225 

repair  them?  Or  shall  I  rush  with  you  to  defend  the 
Palace?" 

"You  leave  the  decision  to  me?" 

"It  is  in  your  hands,  Prince." 

"Then,  old  chap,  tumble  down  this  accursed  tower,  hell 
for  leather,  and  rouse  the  pack.  If  I  and  Morse  and  Bill 
Rolston  cannot  account  for  these  cowardly  assassins,  then 
one  more  man  won't  make  any  difference." 

So  I  said,  so  I  thought.  I  had  no  idea  into  what  peril  I 
was  sending  him,  though  I  have  sometimes  wondered  if 
he  knew.  He  took  my  hand,  kissed  it,  and  beckoning  me, 
we  hurried  through  the  silent  under  City  towards  the  lift. 

"You  go  up.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "and  exercise  the  ut- 
most care.  Have  your  pistol  ready.  The  mist  is  as  thick 
as  ever,  which  is  in  your  favor.  You  can  find  your  way 
now  to  the  Palace,  I  am  sure." 

"And  you?" 

"I  go  off  here,"  he  said,  pointing  with  his  left  arm  down 
a  long  vista  to  where,  under  a  square  arch,  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  seen  at  all  but  swa5dng  yellow-white.  "One  opens 
the  gate  in  the  railing  and  drops  on  to  the  circular  stairs," 
he  said,  "which  cling  to  the  outside  of  the  steel-work  all 
the  way  down  like  a  little  train  of  ivy." 

"Au  revoir,  be  as  quick  as  you  can." 

"Good-by,"  and  I  jumped  into  the  elevator. 

Some  two  minutes  afterwards,  when  I  was  creeping 
through  the  wool  with  my  pistol  in  my  hand,  alert  for  the 
slightest  sound  around  me,  I  heard  the  sharp  crack  of  a 
rifle.    It  came  from  behind  me.    There  was  a  perceptible 


226  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

interval  and  then  another  crack,  followed,  I  could  have 
sworn  to  it,  by  a  thin  wailing  cry. 

Then  utter  silence  fell  once  more  upon  the  white  and 
muffled  City. 

As  I  ran  I  tried  to  steel  myself,  if  that  were  as  I  sus- 
pected, the  last  dying  cry  of  Pu-Yi,  not  to  think  about  it. 
The  immediate  moment,  the  immediate  future,  these  were 
everything. 

All  the  extraordinary  precautions  had  failed.  The  assas- 
sins were  here!  In  what  force?  How  had  they  come? — 
though  that  was  useless  to  speculate  on.  Two  things  only 
remained,  I  must  warn  Morse  if  it  was  not  already  too  late, 
must  avenge  him  if  it  was.  I  resolutely  put  aside  the 
thought  of  Juanita — of  any  personal  feeling  which  might 
mar  my  judgment  and  unstring  my  nerves  at  this  supreme 
and  dreadful  moment. 

I  found  myself,  somehow  or  other,  at  the  entrance  to  the 
tunneled  passage.  Save  for  my  own  quick  breathing  there 
had  not  been  a  sound,  and  the  horrible  curtain  of  the  fog 
was  as  thick  as  ever.  Should  I  at  once  creep  up  to  the 
Palace,  or  should  I  go  back  to  the  villa  and  find  Rolston? 
It  was  a  nice  question  and  the  decision  had  to  be  instan- 
taneous, I  decided  that  it  would  give  me  a  tremendous 
advantage  to  have  him  with  me,  and  besides  that,  he  him- 
self must  be  warned  of  the  terror  that  lurked  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  cloud. 

I  arrived  without  any  mishap,  pushed  open  the  door  and 
was  crossing  the  dark  hall  when  my  foot  caught  in  some 
obstruction  and  I  fell  headlong.     There  was  no  time  to 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  227 

cry  out,  had  I  been  startled  enough  to  do  so,  before  some- 
thing leapt  upon  my  back  with  a  soft  yet  heavy  thud.  A 
hand  slipped  over  my  mouth  and  the  round  barrel  of  a 
pistol  was  pressed  into  my  neck. 

I  lay  helpless,  thinking  that  it  was  all  over,  when  the 
weight  lifted,  the  pistol  was  snatched  away  and  I  was  hauled 
to  my  feet  to  discover — Rolston. 

"Not  a  word,"  he  whispered.  "I  set  a  trap  in  the  hall, 
Sir  Thomas.    Thank  God  you  are  alive!" 

"Thank  God  you  are  too.  Bill,  they've  strangled  Mulli- 
gan, killed  another  Chinese  by  torture  and  I  am  very  much 
afraid  have  shot  Pu-Yi  as  he  was  trying  to  get  down  to 
earth  to  summon  help. 

"Every  single  member  of  the  staff  is  down  in  the  Park 
with  orders  to  stay  there — false  orders.  The  lifts  are  all 
put  out  of  action  beyond  possibility  of  being  repaired  for 
several  hours.  That's  how  things  stand.  Now  we  must 
get  to  the  Palace  as  quickly  as  we  possibly  can.  God 
knows  what  has  happened  or  may  be  happening  there." 

"This  way,  quick!"  he  said,  when  he  had  listened  to  me 
with  strained  attention. 

He  took  my  arm,  hurried  me  into  the  back  part  of  the 
house,  opened  a  door  with  a  key  and  we  entered  a  bedroom 
which  I  had  not  before  seen.  The  windows  were  shuttered  and 
curtained  but  the  electric  light — which  never  failed  either 
my  villa  or  the  Palace  during  the  whole  of  those  terrible 
hours — made  every  detail  clear.  Upon  the  bed,  lying  as  if 
asleep,  was  Juanita.  Leaning  over  her  was  a  tall,  elderly, 
hard-featured  French  woman  with  a  typical  Norman  face. 


228  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

I  staggered  back  into  Bill  Rolston's  arms. 

"Good  God!"  I  cried,  and  then,  "She's  not  dead,  tell  me 
she's  not  dead!" 

Marie,  the  French  maid,  turned. 

"She's  perfectly  well,  M'sieu,  only  she's  had  a  fainting 
fit  and  I've  given  her  something  to  keep  her  quiet." 

She  spoke  in  French. 

"Then  how  do  you  come  here,  what's  happened?" 

"At  some  time  in  the  night,  M'sieu,  I  think  it  must  have 
been  between  two  and  three,  the  warning  bell,  which  is 
always  attached  to  my  bed,  began  to  ring.  I  knew  exactly 
what  to  do.  It  was  part  of  Mr.  Morse's  precautions,  in 
which  he  had  drilled  us.  When  that  bell  rang,  at  whatever 
time  of  day  or  night,  I  was  to  wake  M'selle  instantly,  dress 
her  without  a  second's  delay,  and  bring  her  out  of  the  Pal- 
ace by  a  secret  way. 

"I  did  so,  and  arrived  in  this  room,  where  M'selle  fainted. 
The  door  was  locked  from  the  outside,  and  as  I  have  strict 
orders  never  to  exceed  my  instructions  by  a  hair's  breadth, 
I  have  been  waiting. 

"Not  very  long  ago  M'sieu  here" — ^she  pointed  to  Rol- 
ston — "hearing  some  noise,  unlocked  the  door  and  came  in. 
To  him  I  told  what  had  happened." 

"Thank  God,"  I  said  aloud,  "that  she's  safe,"  and  in  my 
heart  I  paid  a  tribute  to  the  minutely  detailed  genius  of 
Gideon  Morse,  who  had  at  least  foiled  the  panthers  on  his 
track  in  one,  and  the  greatest  particular. 

"Very  well  then.  Now  we  must  leave  you  here  while 
we  hurry  to  the  Palace  to  try  and  learn  what  has  hap- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  229 

pened,  and  do  what  we  can.     You  will  not  be  afraid?" 

"No,  M'sieu,"  she  replied  simply.  "There's  an  angel 
with  us,"  and  she  crossed  herself  devoutly.  "And,  more- 
over," from  somewhere  about  her  waist  she  withdrew  a 
long,  keen  knife,  "I  know  what  to  do  with  this,  M'sieu,  in 
the  last  resort." 

I  went  to  the  bed,  I  looked  down  at  Juanita  and  kissed 
her  gently  on  the  forehead. 

"Now  then.  Bill,  come  along,"  I  said. 

Bill  grinned. 

"By  the  private  way,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  French 
woman,  who  was  removing  a  heavy  Turkish  rug  which  lay 
in  front  of  the  fireplace.  There  was  a  click,  and  a  portion 
of  the  floor  fell  down,  disclosing  some  steps,  padded  with 
felt. 

"This  way,  M'sieu,"  she  whispered,  "the  passage  is  lit, 
but  here's  a  torch  if  you  should  need  it,  and  here  is  the 
book." 

She  handed  me  a  little  leather-bound  book  about  the  size 
of  a  railway  ticket. 

"What's  this?" 

"Instructions  in  English  and  Chinese  in  regard  to  the 
secret  room  at  the  other  end.  They  are  few  and  simple, 
but  Mr.  Morse  had  them  printed  so  that  there  could  be 
no  mistake  if  ever  it  became  necessary  to  use  the  place  and 
its  machinery." 

"He  thinks  of  everything,"  said  Bill,  as  we  crept  down 
into  a  fairly  wide  passage,  and  the  trap-door  above  rose 
once  more  into  its  place. 


230  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

The  passage  was  fully  a  hundred  and  thirty  or  forty 
yards  long  and  straight  as  an  arrow.  As  we  approached 
the  end,  which  I  saw  to  be  hidden  by  a  heavy  curtain,  I 
thought  of  the  little  leather  covered  book.  Motioning  Rol- 
ston  to  stop  I  opened  it  and  read  the  English  portion. 
There  were  about  five  or  six  pages,  with  one  or  two  simple 
diagrams,  and  I  blessed  the  journalistic  training  that  enabled 
me  to  see  the  purport  of  the  whole  thing  in  a  minute,  though 
I  gasped  once  more  at  the  fertile  ingenuity  of  Gideon  Morse. 
Gently  putting  aside  the  heavy  curtain,  we  entered  a  room 
of  some  size.  The  floor  was  heavily  carpeted.  Around  two 
of  the  walls  were  couches  piled  with  blankets.  Upon 
shelves  above  were  piles  of  stores — I  saw  boxes  of  biscuits, 
tins  of  condensed  milk  and  many  bottles  of  wine.  The 
place  was  quite  fourteen  feet  high  and  at  one  end  four 
posts  came  down  from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor.  They  were 
grooved  and  the  grooves  were  lined  with  steel  which  was 
cogged  to  receive  a  toothed  wheel.  Between  the  four  posts, 
dropping  some  two  feet  from  the  ceiling,  was  what  looked 
like  the  lower  part  of  a  large  cistern  or  tank.  This  appa- 
ratus extended  along  the  whole  far  end  of  the  room,  which 
was  not  square  but  square-oblong  in  shape.  Immediately 
opposite  to  where  we  entered  was  an  arrangement  of  levers, 
like  the  levers  in  a  railway  signal-box,  though  smaller ;  above 
these,  sprouting  out  of  the  wall,  were  half  a  dozen  vulcanite 
mouthpieces  like  black  trumpets.  Above  each  one  was  a 
little  ivory  label. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  Bill  whispered. 

I  held  up  my  hand  for  silence,  looking  round  the  place, 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  231 

referring  once  or  twice  to  the  little  book,  and  making  abso- 
lutely sure.  As  I  was  doing  so  there  was  a  sudden  "pop," 
followed  by  the  unmistakable  gurgle  of  champagne  into  a 
glass. 

It  was  the  most  uncanny  thing  I  have  ever  heard,  for 
it  might  have  happened  at  my  elbow.  Had  it  not  been 
that  a  tiny  electric  signal-bulb  no  bigger  than  a  sixpence 
glowed  out  over  one  of  the  mouthpieces,  I  should  have  been 
utterly  unnerved.  This  mouthpiece  was  labeled  "Mr.  Morse's 
study." 

"The  dictograph,"  I  whispered  to  Rolston,  and  he  pressed 
my  arm  to  show  he  understood. 

I  think  I  would  have  given  a  thousand  pounds  myself 
for  some  champagne  just  then.  We  stood  holding  each 
other,  frozen  into  an  ecstasy  of  listening.  I  almost  thought 
that  one  of  Bill's  remarkable  ears  was  elongating  itself  until  it 
coiled  sinuously  towards  the  wall,  but  this,  no  doubt,  was 
illusion. 

There  came  a  voice,  an  urbane,  and  cultured  voice,  well 
modulated  and  serene. 

It  v/as  all  that,  but  as  I  heard  it  my  blood  seemed  to 
turn  to  red  currant  jelly  and  to  circulate  no  more  in  my 
veins.  If  there  was  ever  a  voice  which  was  informed  by 
some  unnamable  quality  which  came  straight  from  the  red 
pit  of  hell,  we  heard  that  voice  then.  Hearing  it,  I  knew 
for  the  first  time  the  meaning  of  those  words:  The  worm 
that  dies  not  and  the  fire  that  is  not  quenched. 

"Whoever  thought,  Gideon  Morse,  that  I  should  be  break- 
fasting with  you  to-day!    To  tell  the  truth  I  didn't  myself. 


232  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

But  as  you  know,  I  have  always  been  a  great  gambler  and 
now,  at  the  end  of  all  the  games  of  chance  that  we  have 
played  together,  I  have  turned  up  the  final  ace." 

Another  voice — Heaven!  it  was  Morse  himself  who  an- 
swered. His  voice  seemed  almost  amused.  It  was  like  com- 
ing out  of  a  pitch  dark  room  into  summer  sunlight  to  hear 
it  after  that  other. 

"Mark  Antony  Midwinter,  you  speak  of  triumph,  but 
you  were  never  nearer  your  ultimate  end  than  you  are  at 
this  moment" — I  could  have  sworn  I  heard  his  dry  chuckle 
and  I  moved  nearer  to  the  wall. 

"This  cold  pheasant  is  quite  excellent.  What  is  the  use 
of  trying  to  bluff  me?  Your  end  has  come  and  you  know 
it.  It  isn't  going  to  be  a  pleasant  end,  I  expect  you  guess 
that.  We  have  tossed  the  dice  for  many  years,  you  and  I. 
You've  won  over  and  over  again.  I  had  become  an  outcast 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  until  Fate  made  me  the  agent  of 
a  great  vengeance." 

This  time  Morse  laughed  outright. 

"You  offal-eating  jackal!"  he  said.  "Finish  your  stolen 
meal  and  get  to  work.  You,  the  agent  of  a  great  venge- 
ance! when  not  long  ago  you  slunk  into  my  London  hotel 
and  offered  to  sell  your  employers.  I  understand,"  he  went 
on  in  a  curiously  impersonal  voice,  "that  you  really  are  sup- 
posed to  be  descended  from  a  high  English  family.  Even 
when  I  had  you  tarred  and  feathered — do  you  remember 
that,  Antony? — many  years  ago,  I  still  believed  in  your 
descent,  though  I  own  I  didn't  give  it  much  of  a  thought. 
Tell  me,  where  exactly  did  the  kitchen-maid  come  in?" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  233 

Following  upon  Morse's  words  we  heard  the  sound  of 
footsteps  and  the  scraping  of  a  chair. 

A  new  person  had  come  into  the  room  and  Midwinter  had 
risen  to  meet  him. 

"Well?" 

The  reply  came  in  a  deep  bass  voice. 

"Nothing  is  changed.  There  was  one  Chinaman,  it 
must  have  been  the  librarian  of  whom  that  guy  we  put 
through  it,  spoke — he  came  sliding  along  and  tried  to  get 
down  by  the  cat's  cradle  outside  the  tower,  I  was  leaning 
out  of  that  balcony  window  above,  commanding  every  ap- 
proach, and  I  got  him  with  my  second  shot." 

"Did  he  fall  all  the  way  down?  That  might  startle  them 
below." 

"No.  He  just  crumpled  up  on  the  stairs,  and  after 
looking  round,  I've  come  back  here.  There's  a  little  wind 
beginning  to  get  up  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  in  an  hour 
or  so  this  mist-blanket  is  all  blown  away." 

"Half  an  hour  is  enough  for  what  we  have  to  do,  Zorilla. 
Just  go  over  to  Mr.  Morse  there  and  see  if  his  lashings  are 
secure — and  then  we  must  think  about  getting  off  our- 
selves." 

It  was  as  though  Bill  and  I  could  see  exactly  what  was 
happening  in  the  library — the  heavy  tread,  an  affirmative 
grunt,  and  then  the  smooth  hellish  voice  resuming: 

"You  know  you've  got  to  die,  Morse,  and  die  painfully. 
Nothing  can  alter  that,  but  I'll  let  you  off  part  of  your 
agonies  if  you  tell  me  at  once  where  your  daughter  is.    It 


234  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

will  only  precipitate  matters.  We  can  easily  find  her  as  you 
must  know." 

"I  don't  like  talking  with  you  at  all.  You  are  both 
of  you  doomed  beyond  power  of  redemption.  You  have 
overcome  some  of  my  precautions,  by  what  means  I  can- 
not tell.  You've  captured  my  person.  You  are  about  to 
wreak  your  disgusting  vengeance  on  it.  For  Heaven's  sake 
do  so.  You  know  nothing  of  this  place  you  are  in,  or  very 
little.    Fools!"    The  voice  rang  out  like  a  trumpet. 

There  was  a  murmured  conference,  the  words  of  which  we 
could  not  catch,  then  Midwinter  said: 

"We'll  put  you  to  the  test  a  little,  before  Zorilla  really 
begins — operating.  Adjoining  this  apartment  I  see  there  is 
your  most  luxurious  bathroom — the  walls  of  onyx,  the  bath 
of  solid  silver.  Well,  we'll  take  you  and  put  you  in  that 
bath  and  turn  on  the  water.  I'll  stand  over  you,  and  with 
my  hands  on  your  shoulders,  I'll  plunge  you  an  inch  or  two 
beneath  the  surface,  till  you  are  so  nearly  drowned  that 
you  taste  all  the  bitterness  of  death.  Then  we'll  have  you 
up  again  and  ask  you  a  few  questions.  Perhaps  you  may 
have  to  go  back  into  the  bath  a  second  time  before  Zorilla 
gets  to  the  real  work." 

No  words  of  mine  can  describe  the  malignancy  of  that 
voice,  no  words  of  mine  can  describe  the  shout  of  resolute, 
sardonic  laughter  which  answered  it. 

Bill  wanted  to  shout  in  answer,  but  I  clapped  my  hand 
over  his  mouth  just  in  time,  and  I  could  almost  see  the 
frowning  faces  of  the  two  fiends  as  they  advanced  upon  the 
bound  man. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  235 

.  .  .  Steps  overhead;  the  little  bulb  over  the  mouthpiece 
labeled  "Mr.  Morse's  study"  goes  out,  and  another  lights  up 
over  the  mouthpiece  labeled  "Bathroom."  There  is  a  jar- 
ring as  a  tap  is  turned  on  and  a  rush  of  water. 

"That'll  do,  Zorilla.  Two  feet  is  quite  enough  for  our 
purpose" — the  voices  are  actually  in  the  room  now,  much 
louder  and  clearer  than  before. 

"You  take  the  heels — steady,  heavo!"  and  then  a  splash 
and  a  thud.  We  heard  some  one  vaulting  lightly  into  the 
bath. 

"Now,  Morse,  I  hold  you  up  for  a  minute.  I  shall  press 
you  down  under  the  water  until  you  are  as  near  dead  as 
a  man  can  be.    Have  you  anything  to  say?" 

"Yes.    Give  me  one  moment." 

"Ten  if  you  like." 

Then  there  came  in  a  calm,  penetrating  voice,  "Are  you 
there?" 

I  reached  upward  and  smote  with  my  clenched  fist  upon 
the  outside  of  the  bath.  I  heard  a  muttered  exclamation, 
a  slight  splash,  and  then  Bill  Rolston  pulled  over  a  lever, 
and  half  the  ceiling  of  our  room  sank  towards  us  with  a 
noise  like  the  winding-up  of  a  clock. 

Midwinter  was  standing  in  one  end  of  the  bath,  which 
hid  him  almost  up  to  his  waist.  His  jaw  dropped  like  the 
jaw  of  a  dead  man.  Such  baffled  hate  and  infinite  malevo- 
lence stared  out  of  his  eyes  that  I  gave  a  shout  of  relief 
as  Rolston  lifted  his  arm  and  fired. 

He  must  have  missed  the  fiend's  head  by  a  hair's  breadth, 
no  more.    Quick  as  lightning  he  fired  again,  but  he  was  too 


236  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

late.  Midwinter  bounded  out  of  the  bath  like  a  tennis  ball, 
felled  Rolston  with  a  back-arm  blow  as  he  leapt,  and  fled 
down  the  passage. 

The  loud  thunder  of  the  explosions  in  that  underground 
place  had  not  died  away  before  I  had  lifted  Morse  from 
under  the  water  and  dragged  him  over  the  side  of  the 
bath. 

His  face  was  very  pale,  but  his  eyes  were  open  and  he 
could  speak. 

Truly  the  man  was  marvelous. 

"The  other,"  he  whispered,  "the  brute  Zorilla!  Juan- 
ita!" 

I  understood  one  of  the  devils,  desperate  now,  was  still 
at  large,  and  even  as  I  realized  it,  I  saw  a  ghastly  sight. 

There  was  a  noise  above.  I  bent  my  head  backward 
and  looked  up  through  the  aperture  in  the  ceiling. 

A  man  was  crouching  over  it  and  I  saw  his  face  and  neck 
— a  big,  black-bearded  face,  with  eyes  like  blazing  coals, 
but  reversed.  His  eyes  were  where  his  mouth  should  have 
been,  his  nostrils  were  like  two  pits,  and  for  a  forehead 
there  was  a  grinning  mouth  full  of  gleaming  teeth.  Any 
one  who,  when  ill,  has  seen  their  nurse  or  attendant  bend- 
ing over  them  from  the  back  of  the  bed,  will  realize  what 
I  mean,  though  they  can  never  xmderstand  the  horror  of 
that  demoniac  and  inverted  mask. 

I  was  pretty  quick  on  the  target,  but  not  quick  enough. 
The  thing  whipped  away  even  as  I  fired,  and  there  was  a 
thunder  of  feet  running. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  237 

I  think  a  sort  of  madness  seized  me,  at  any  rate  I  was 
never  in  a  moment's  doubt  as  to  what  to  do.  I  shoved  my 
pistol  in  my  pocket,  leapt  upon  the  edge  of  the  bath,  sprang 
upwards  and  caught  the  floor  of  the  room  above  with  my 
hands. 

The  rest  was  easy  for  any  athlete  in  training.  I  pulled 
myself  up,  lay  panting  for  a  second  and  then  stood  upon 
the  tiled  floor  of  the  bathroom. 

The  door  leading  into  the  library  was  open.  I  dashed 
through  to  find  the  place  empty,  rushed  through  the  hall 
and  out  upon  the  steps  of  the  main  entrance.  And  then, 
joy!  A  morning  wind  had  begun  and  instead  of  a  white, 
impenetrable  wall,  a  phantom  army  was  retreating  and,  as 
if  pursuing  those  ghost-like  sentinels,  w^as  the  black,  rurming 
figure  of  Zorilla. 

I  had  a  clear  glimpse  of  him  as  he  plunged  into  the 
tunnel  leading  to  Grand  Square,  and  I  was  after  him  like 
a  slipped  greyhound. 

In  Grand  Square  it  was  clearing  up  with  a  vengeance. 
There  were  gleams  of  sunlight  here  and  there  and  the  mist 
had  lifted  for  about  twelve  feet  above  my  head. 

I  saw  him  bolt  round  the  central  fountain,  hidden  by  an 
immense  bronze  dragon  for  a  moment,  and  then  legging 
it  for  all  he  was  worth  towards  the  way  that  led  to  the 
lifts  for  the  second  stage. 

The  wood  floor  had  dried  with  the  lifting  of  the  mist 
and  I  was  doing  seven-foot  strides.  I  was  seeing  red. 
There  was  a  terrible  cold  fury  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 


238  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

but  in  my  mind  there  was  a  furious  joy.  With  every  stride 
I  gained  on  him — this  powerful,  thick-set,  baboon-like  man 
from  the  forests  of  the  Amazon. 

I  gave  a  loud,  exulting  "View-halloo,"  and  the  black  head 
turned  for  an  instant — he  lost  ten  good  yards  by  that.  I 
whooped  again.  I  meant  to  kill,  to  rend  him  in  pieces. 
And  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  realized  the  joy  of 
primeval  man:  the  lust  of  the  hunt,  red  fang,  red  claw,  to 
tear,  dominate  and  destroy. 

Oh,  it  was  fine  hunting! 

Damn  him!  He  snapped  himself  into  one  of  the  little 
lifts  when  I  was  within  six  yards  of  him.  I  saw  his  ugly 
face  sink  out  of  sight  behind  the  glass  panels.  I  remem- 
bered that  these  small  hydraulic  lifts  worked,  though  the 
big  ones  below  didn't.  But  I  remembered  something  else 
.  .  .  there  was  a  stairway. 

I  found  it  by  instinct,  a  great  broad  stair  with  tiled  walls 
like  the  subway  of  some  railway  terminus. 

I  didn't  bother  about  the  stairs.  I  leapt  down — pre- 
serving my  balance  by  a  miracle — six  or  seven  at  a  time. 
Pounding  out  into  the  great  empty  City  at  the  foot,  I 
swirled  round  and  was  just  in  time  to  see  my  gentleman 
bolt  out  of  his  lift  like  a  rabbit  from  its  hole  and  run  to 
where  I  knew  was  the  outside  stairway  which  fell,  in  its 
corkscrew  path,  barred  by  many  gates,  right  down  to  safety 
and  the  normal  world. 

It  was  the  way  by  which  dear  old  Pu-Yi  had  hoped  to 
descend  and  raise  the  alarm.  It  was  the  perilous  eyrie 
upon  which  this  same  bull-like  assassin  had  picked  him  off 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  239 

like  a  sitting  pigeon  and  boasted  of  it  not  half  an  hour 
before. 

As  he  dodged  and  ran  I  fired  at  him,  but  never  a  bullet 
touched  the  brute  and  I  flung  the  Colt  away  with  an  oath. 

"Much  better  kill  him  with  my  own  hands,"  I  said  in 
my  mind,  "much  better  tear  his  head  off,  break  him  up — " 

I  tell  you  this  as  it  happened.  For  the  moment  I  was 
a  wild  beast,  in  pursuit  of  another,  but  still,  I  think,  a  super- 
beast. 

Well,  never  mind  that.  I  saw  him  fumbling  at  a  sort  of 
fence,  clearly  outlined  against  an  immense  space  of  morn- 
ing sky,  and  thundered  after  him — thundered,  I  say,  because 
I  was  now  running  along  an  open  steel  grating,  which 
seemed  to  sway  .  .  . 

Then  I  vaulted  over  where  Zorilla  had  vaulted,  and  my 
heart  leapt  into  my  mouth  as  I  fell — fell  some  eight  feet 
on  to  a  tiny  platform,  protected  from  space  by  a  rail  not 
more  than  three  feet  high. 

I  reeled,  and  caught  hold  of  a  stanchion  and  saved  myself. 
Far,  far  below,  London — London  in  color  was  unrolling 
itself  like  a  map — and  immediately  below  my  feet,  already 
a  considerable  distance  down,  was  the  slithering  black  spider 
that  I  had  sworn  to  kill. 

I  could  see  him  through  the  grid,  and  then  I  flimg  myself 
upon  the  corkscrew  ladder,  grasping  the  rails  with  my  hands 
until  the  skin  was  burnt  from  them,  disdaining  the  steps 
and  spinning  round  and  ever  downwards  like  a  great  top. 

As  I  went  my  head  projected  at  right  angles  to  my  body. 
As  I  buzzed  down  that  sickening  height  I  saw  that  Zorilla 


240  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

had  stopped.  I  knew  that  he  had  come  to  one  of  the  steel 
gates,  at  which  he  was  fumbling  uselessly. 

Then,  as  I  came  to  the  last  step  before  the  little  gate  plat- 
form I  saw  also,  under  the  curve  of  the  stair,  a  huddled 
figure,  and  I  knew  who  that  was,  who  that  had  been  .  .  . 

I  threw  myself  at  Zorilla  with  my  knee  in  the  small  of 
his  back.  Instantly  I  caught  him  round  the  throat  with 
my  fingers  just  on  the  big  veins  behind  the  ear  which  sup- 
ply the  brain  with  blood,  and  my  fingers  crushed  the  trachea 
until  the  whole  supple  throat  seemed  breaking  under  the 
molding  of  my  grip. 

I  felt  that  I  had  got  him.  That  if  I  could  hold  out 
for  a  minute  he  would  be  dead,  but  I  hadn't  reckoned  with 
the  immense  muscular  force  of  the  body. 

I  clung  like  the  leopard  on  the  buffalo,  but  he  began 
to  sway  this  way  and  that.  In  front  of  us  was  the  steel 
gate  and  the  motionless  figure  of  Pu-Yi.  We  were  strug- 
gling upon  the  steel  grid,  not  much  larger  than  a  tea  table. 
A  slight  rail  only  three  feet  high  defended  us  from  the  void 
— a  little  thigh-high  rail  between  us  and  a  drop  of  near 
two  thousand  feet. 

He  lurched  to  the  left,  and  I  swung  out  into  immensity, 
carried  on  his  back.  I  was  sure  it  was  the  end,  that  I 
should  be  flung  off  into  space,  when  with  one  arm  he  gripped 
the  gate,  braced  all  his  great  strength  and  slowly  dragged 
us  back  into  equilibrium.  It  seemed  that  the  whole  tower 
trembled,  vibrated  in  a  horrible,  metallic  music. 

I  pressed  down  my  thumbs,  I  strained  every  sinew  of  my 
wrist  and  arm  in  the  strangle  hold,  and  I  felt  the  life  puis- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  241 

ing  out  of  him  in  steady  throbs.  There  was  nothing  else 
in  the  world  now  but  myself  and  him  and  I  ground  my 
teeth  and  clutched  harder. 

In  his  death  agony  he  lurched  to  the  other  side  of  our 
tiny  foothold  space.  This  was  where  the  circular  stair- 
way ended.  He  caught  his  foot,  so  I  was  told  afterwards, 
in  the  last  stanchion  of  the  stair,  fell  over  the  rail  with  a 
low,  sobbing  groan,  and  then,  weighted  by  me  upon  his 
shoulders,  began  to  slip,  slip,  slip,  downwards. 

And  I  with  him. 

I  had  conquered.  I  don't  think  that  in  that  moment  I 
had  any  feeling  but  one  of  wild,  fierce  joy.  He  was  going, 
I  was  going  with  him,  but  I  never  thought  of  that,  until  my 
right  ankle  was  clutched  in  a  vice-like  grip.  I  felt  the 
warm,  heaving  body  below  me  rush  away,  tearing  my  grip 
from  its  throat  by  its  own  dreadful  impetus,  and  then,  as 
I  was  snatched  back  with  a  jar  of  every  bone  in  my  body, 
there  was  a  shrill  whistling  of  air  for  a  second  as  Zorilla 
went  headlong  to  his  doom,  and  I  knew  nothing  else. 


CHAPTER   THIRTEEN 

Falling!  Falling  through  deep  waters,  with  a  horrible 
sickening  sense  of  utter  helplessness  and  desolation ;  nerves, 
heart,  mind — ^very  being  itself — awaited  the  crash  of  ex- 
tinction. A  slight  jolt,  a  roaring  of  great  waters  in  the 
air,  and  a  voice,  dim,  thin  and  far  away! 

...  In  some  mysterious  way,  the  sense  of  sight  was 
joined  to  that  of  sound  and  hearing.  I  was  surrounded  by 
blackness  shot  with  gleams  of  baleful  fire,  shifting  and 
changing  until  the  black  grew  gray  in  furious  eddies,  the 
gray  changed  into  the  light  of  day,  and  a  far-off  voice 
became  loud  and  insistent. 

It  was  thus  that  I  came  to  myself  after  the  horror  on 
the  edge  of  the  dizzy  void. 

The  first  thing  I  saw  was  the  face  of  Juanita.  There 
were  tears  in  her  eyes  and  her  cheeks  were  brilliant.  Then 
I  heard,  and  even  then  with  a  start,  a  voice  that  I  had 
never  thought  to  hear  again — the  gentle,  tripping  accents 
of  Pu-Yi. 

''He  will  do  now,  Seiiorita.  The  doctor  said  that  he 
would  awake  from  his  sleep  with  very  little  the  matter  ex- 
cept the  shock — "  *' 

"Juanita!"  I  cried,  and  her  cool  hand  came  down  upon 
my  forehead. 

"You  are  not  to  excite  yourself,  dearest,"  she  said. 

242 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  243 

For  a  moment  or  two  I  lay  there  in  a  waking  swoon 
of  puzzled  but  entire  bliss.  Then  I  tried  to  move  my  posi- 
tion slightly  upon  the  bed,  for  I  was  lying  upon  a  bed  in 
a  large  and  airy  room,  and  groaned  aloud.  Every  muscle 
in  my  body  seemed  stretched  as  if  upon  the  rack,  and  there 
was  a  pain  like  a  red-hot  iron  in  one  ankle. 

''It  will  hurt  for  a  few  hours,"  said  Pu-Yi,  "but  you  will 
shortly  be  massaged,  Sir  Thomas,  and  then — " 

"You!"  I  cried,  "but  you  are  dead!  Zorilla  got  you  on 
the  tower  before — before — " 

My  mind  leapt  up  into  full  activity.  I  was  once  more 
swaying  upon  the  edge  of  infinity  with  my  fingers  locked 
in  the  bull  neck  of  the  assassin,  and  my  voice  died  away 
into  a  whisper  of  horror. 

"He  stunned  me,  that  was  all.  Sir  Thomas.  His  bullet 
glanced  away  from  my  head.  I  came  to  myself  just  in 
time  to  see  you  struggling  with  him  and  gripped  you  just 
as  you  were  falling  off  into  space.  The  spirits  of  my 
ancestors  were  with  me." 

"And  he— Zorilla?" 

"Will  never  trouble  us  more.  But  you  are  not  well 
enough  yet  to  talk.    You  are  in  my  hands  for  the  present." 

"Do  exactly  as  Pu-Yi  says,  dear,  and  remember  that 
all  is  well." 

"Your  father?"  I  gasped — why  hadn't  I  thought  of  Morse 
before? 

"All  is  well,"  she  repeated  in  her  low,  musical  voice,  and 
as  I  lay  back,  trembling  once  more  upon  the  edge  of  uncon- 
sciousness, her  face  left  the  circle  of  my  vision. 


244  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Two  deft  Chinese  masseurs  came.  I  was  placed  in  a  hot 
bath  impregnated  with  some  strong  salts.  I  was  kneaded 
and  pummeled  until  I  could  hardly  repress  cries  of  pain. 
I  drank  a  cup  of  hot  soup  in  which  there  must  have  been 
some  soporific,  and  sank  into  a  deep,  refreshing  sleep. 

It  had  been  late  afternoon  when  I  first  came  to  myself. 
When  I  woke  for  the  second  time,  it  was  night.  The  room 
was  brilliantly  lit.  Pu-Yi  was  sitting  by  my  bedside,  quietly 
smoking  a  long,  Chinese  pipe,  and,  for  my  part,  though  I 
was  very  stiff,  I  was  in  full  possession  of  all  my  faculties 
and  knew  that  I  had  suffered  no  harm. 

I  sat  up  in  bed  and  held  out  my  hand  to  the  Chinaman. 

"Pu-Yi,  I'm  all  right  now.  I  owe  my  life  to  you!"  And 
as  I  realized  my  extraordinary  deliverance  in  the  very  article 
of  death,  a  sob  burst  from  me  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say 
that  my  eyes  filled  with  tears.  IMy  hand  is  as  strong  as 
most  men's,  but  I  almost  winced  at  the  grip  of  those  fragile- 
looking,  artistic  fingers. 

"You  did  the  same  for  me,  my  honorable  friend,"  he 
said  quietly,  "and  now — " 

Before  I  knew  what  he  would  be  at,  he  was  feeling  my 
pulse  and  listening  to  my  heart  with  his  ear  against  my 
chest. 

At  length  he  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.    "We  had  a  doctor 
to  you,"  he  said,  "and  he  told  us  that,  in  his  opinion,  youi 
would  be  little  the  worse.     I  am  rejoiced  that  his  opinion] 
is  confirmed." 

"Oh,  I  am  all  right  now,  and  ready  for  anything." 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  245 

''You  are  sure,  Sir  Thomas?  What  you  have  been 
through  may  have  given  you  a  shock  which — " 

For  answer,  I  held  out  my  hand.  It  was  as  firm  as  a  rock 
and  did  not  tremble.  I  heaved  myself  off  the  bed,  took 
a  cigarette  from  a  box  upon  a  table,  and  began  to  smoke. 

''Now  then,  Pu-Yi,  I  am  just  as  I  was  before.  First  of 
all,  where  am  I?" 

"You  are  in  the  Palacete,"  he  replied.  "You  were  brought 
here  at  once." 

Then  I  knew  that  I  was  in  Morse's  dwelling  house,  copied 
exactly,  as  I  have  said  before,  from  the  Palacete  Mendoza 
at  Rio. 

"Now  tell  me  exactly  what  has  happened,  in  as  few  words 
as  possible." 

"I  am  only  too  anxious  to  do  so.  Sir  Thomas.  You  were 
brought  back  here.  Immediately  after,  Rolston  descended 
by  means  of  the  outside  stair  and  summoned  the  staff.  They 
are  all  here  now.  The  electric  cables  have  been  repaired. 
Lifts,  telephones,  electric  light,  and  all  the  other  machinery 
is  in  working  order.  The  body  of  Zorilla  has  been  brought 
up  to  the  City  and  placed  with  that  of  Mulligan  and  my 
own  servant.  This  house  is  strongly  guarded  by  armed 
men,  and  the  whole  City  is  patrolled." 

"No  one  else  was  hurt?" 

"No  one  else  at  all.  Sir  Thomas." 

His  face  changed  as  he  said  this,  and  he  looked  me  full 
in  the  eyes. 

Then,  with  a  start,  I  understood.    Every  detail  of  the 


246  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

past  came  back  in  a  vivid,  instantaneous  picture.  Again 
I  saw  the  silver  bath  descending  from  the  ceiling  and  heard 
the  loud  explosion  of  Rolston's  pistol.  And  as  that  furious 
noise  resounded  in  my  mental  ear,  once  more  the  grinning, 
corpse-pale  face  of  Mark  Antony  Midwinter  passed  close 
to  mine  and  I  felt  the  very  wind  of  his  passage  as  he  rushed 
by  and  disappeared  down  the  long  underground  corridor 
leading  to  the  safety-room. 

"Midwinter!"  I  almost  shouted.  The  face  of  the  China- 
man had  gone  a  dusky  gray — he  told  me  afterwards  that 
mine  was  white  as  linen. 

"Vanished,"  he  said — "disappeared  utterly.  And  he  is 
the  master-mind!  While  Mark  Antony  Midwinter  is  alive, 
Mr.  Morse,  none  of  us,  will  know  a  moment  of  safety  or  of 
ease." 

I  could  not  quarrel  with  that.  Zorilla  was  dead — a 
great  gain — but  no  one  who  had  been  through  what  I 
had  and  who  knew  the  whole  situation  as  I  knew  it,  could 
fail  to  appreciate  the  terrible  seriousness  of  this  news.  To 
you  who  read  this  record  in  peace  and  safety,  this  may 
seem  a  wild  or  exaggerated  statement,  a  product  of  over- 
strained nerves.  But,  believe  me,  it  was  not  so.  I  knew 
too  much!  The  securest  fortress  in  the  whole  world  had 
been  already  stormed.  All  the  precautions  that  enormous 
wealth  and  some  of  the  subtlest  brains  alive  could  take  had 
already  proved  useless  against  the  superhuman  cunning, 
energy  and  ferocity  of  this  being  who  seemed,  indeed,  lit- 
erally, more  fiend  than  man.     No!   we  were  no  cowards. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  247 

most  of  us,  up  there  in  the  City  of  the  Clouds,  but  we  might 
well  quail  still,  to  know  that  this  fury  was  unchained.  I 
know  that  I  sat  down  suddenly  upon  the  bed  with  a  groan 
of  despair. 

■'Gone!  Vanished!  Surely  he  must  be  either  in  the 
City  or  has  escaped!  If  he  is  in  the  City,  I  admit  the 
danger  is  imminent.  He  must  be  utterly  desperate,  and 
will  stick  at  nothing.  If  he  has  managed  to  get  down  to 
the  earth,  he  is  dangerous  still,  but  we  have  a  breathing 
space.    Which  is  it?" 

"We  do  not  know.  Sir  Thomas.  There  is  no  trace  of  him 
anywhere,  so  far.  But,  as  I  have  said,  we  have  more  than 
a  hundred  men,  armed  and  patrolling  the  City.  This  house, 
at  any  rate,  is  secure  for  the  moment.  A  great  search  is 
being  organized.  The  whole  area  is  being  mapped  out  and 
it  will  be  searched  with  such  thoroughness  before  to- 
morrow's dawn  that  a  rat  could  not  escape.  My  own  theory 
is,  and  Mr.  Morse  agrees  with  me,  that  Midwinter  is  still 
in  the  City.  The  most  scrupulous  inquiries  below  seem  to 
prove  that  he  never  descended  from  the  tower,  and  you 
know  how  minute  and  careful  our  organization  is.  And  now 
that  you  are  yourself  again,  it  is  Mr.  Morse's  wish  that  we 
hold  a  conference  and  settle  exactly  what  is  to  be  done. 
Do  you  think  you  are  equal  to  it?" 

"Perfectly,"  I  replied,  and  without  another  word  Pu-Yi 
led  the  way  out  of  the  room. 

I  found  Mr.  Morse  sitting  in  his  library.  He  was  pale, 
and  seemed  much  shaken.    There  were  red  rims  round  the 


248  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

keen,  masterful  eyes,  but  his  voice  was  strong  and  resolute, 
and  I  could  see  that,  whatever  his  opinion  of  his  chances, 
he  would  fight  till  the  end. 

I  need  not  go  into  details  of  the  private  conversation  we 
had  for  a  minute  or  two.  His  gratitude  was  pathetic,  and 
I  felt  more  drawn  to  him  than  ever  before.  When  at  length 
Juanita,  followed  by  little  Rolston,  entered  the  room,  all 
trace  of  his  emotion  had  gone  and  we  settled  down  round 
the  table  as  calm  and  businesslike  as  a  board  of  directors 
in  a  bank.  And  yet,  you  know,  no  group  of  people  in 
Europe  stood  in  such  peril  as  we  did  then.  Behind  the 
long,  silken  curtains,  the  shutters  were  of  bullet-proof  steel. 
The  corridor  outside,  the  gardens  of  the  house,  swarmed 
with  men  armed  to  the  teeth.  It  was  dark  in  the  sky, 
but  the  City  in  the  Clouds  blazed  ever5rwhere  with  an  arti- 
ficial sunlight  from  the  great  electric  lamps. 

Two  thousand  feet  up  in  the  air  we  sat  and  spoke  in 
quiet  voices  of  the  horror  that  was  past  and  the  horror  that 
threatened  us.  Far  down  below,  London  was  waking  up  to 
a  night  of  pleasure.  People  were  dressing  for  dinners  and 
the  theater,  thousands  upon  thousands  of  toilers  had  left 
their  work  and  were  about  to  enjoy  the  hours  of  rest  and 
recreation.  And  not  a  soul,  probably,  among  all  those  mil- 
lions that  crawled  like  ants  at  our  feet  had  the  least  suspi- 
cion of  what  was  going  on  in  our  high  place.  They  were 
accustomed  to  the  great  towers  now.  The  sensation  of  their 
building  was  over  and  done,  there  were  no  more  thrills.  If 
they  had  only  known! 

I  was  not  aware  if  strata  of  clouds  hid  us  from  the 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  249 

world  below,  as  so  often  happened;  but  if  the  night  were 
clear  I  do  remember  thinking  that  any  one  who  cast  their 
eyes  up  into  the  sky  might  well  notice  an  unusual  bril- 
liancy in  the  pleasure  city  of  the  millionaire,  that  mysterious 
theater  of  the  unknown,  which  dominated  the  greatest  city 
in  the  world. 

.  .  .  'Well,  Tom,"  said  Mr.  Morse,  'Tu-Yi  tells  me  that 
you  are  now  acquainted  with  all  the  facts.  The  question 
we  have  to  decide  is,  what  are  we  to  do?" 

He  turned  to  Juanita,  and  nodded.     She  left  the  room. 

'The  situation,  as  I  understand  it,"  I  replied,  "is  that 
Midwinter" — I  had  a  curious  reluctance  in  pronouncing 
the  name  aloud — "is  either  concealed  here  in  the  City  or 
has  made  his  escape.  If  he  is  here,  we  shall  know  before 
to-morrow  morning,  shall  we  not?" 

"Precisely.  I  have  spent  the  last  hour  in  going  over 
the  plans  of  the  City  with  the  chiefs  of  the  staff.  We  have 
divided  up  the  two  stages  into  small  sections,  and  even 
while  I  am  talking  to  you  the  search  has  begun.  The  orders 
are  to  shoot  at  sight,  to  kill  that  man  with  less  compunction 
than  one  would  kill  a  mad  dog.  If  he  is  really  here,  he  can- 
not possibly  escape." 

"Very  well,  then,"  I  said,  "let  us  turn  our  attention  to 
the  other  possibility.  Assuming  that  he  has  got  away,  I 
think  we  may  safely  say  that  the  danger  is  very  much 
lessened." 

"While  we  remain  here  in  the  City — ^yes,"  Morse  agreed. 

"And  you  are  determined  to  do  that?" 

He  took  the  cigar  he  had  been  smoking  from. his  lips, 


250  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

and  his  hand  shook  a  little.  "Think  what  you  like  of  me," 
he  said,  "but  remember  that  there  is  Juanita.  I  say  to  you, 
Kirby,  that  if  I  never  descend  to  the  world  again  alive,  I 
must  stay  here  until  Mark  Antony  Midwinter  is  dead." 

Well,  I  had  already  made  up  my  mind  on  this  point. 
"I  think  you  are  quite  right,"  I  told  him.  "Still,  he  will 
not  make  a  second  appearance  in  the  City.  You  can  treble 
your  precautions.  He  must  be  attacked  down  in  the 
world." 

Then  a  thought  struck  me  for  the  first  time.  "But  how," 
I  said,  "did  he  and  Zorilla  ever  come  here  in  the  first  in- 
stance? Treachery  among  the  staff?  It  is  the  only  expla- 
nation." 

Pu-Yi  shook  his  head.  "You  may  put  that  out  of  your 
mind.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said.  "That  is  my  department.  I 
know  what  you  cannot  know  about  my  chosen  compatriots." 

"But  the  man  isn't  a  specter!  He's  a  devil  incarnate,  but 
there's  nothing  supernatural  about  him." 

Then  little  Rolston  spoke.  "I've  been  down  below  all 
day,"  he  said,  "and  though  I  haven't  discovered  anything 
of  Midwinter,  I  am  certain  of  how  he  and  Zorilla  got  here." 

We  all  turned  to  him  with  startled  faces. 

"Do  you  remember,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "that,  shortly 
after  your  arrival,  when  you  were  looking  down  upon  Lon- 
don from  one  of  the  galleries,  there  was  a  big  fair  in  Rich- 
mond Park?" 

I  remembered,  and  said  so. 

"Among  the  other  attractions,  there  was  a  captive  bal- 
loon—" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  251 

Morse  brought  his  hand  heavily  down  upon  the  table  with 
a  loud  exclamation  in  Spanish. 

"Yes,  there  was,  but — but  it  was  quite  half  a  mile  away 
and  never  came  up  anything  like  our  height  here." 

"No,"  the  boy  answered,  "not  at  that  time.  But  do  you 
remember  how  during  the  fog  last  night  I  told  you  I  had 
seen  something,  or  thought  I  had  seen  something,  like  a 
group  of  statuary  falling  before  my  bedroom  window?" 

Something  seemed  to  snap  in  my  mind.  "Good  heavens! 
And  I  thought  it  was  merely  a  trick  of  the  mist!  Nothing 
was  discovered?" 

"No,  but  in  view  of  what  happened  afterwards,  I  formed 
a  theory.  I  put  it  to  the  test  this  morning.  I  made  a  few 
inquiries  as  to  the  proprietors  of  the  captive  balloon  and 
the  engine  which  wound  it  up  and  down  by  means  of  a 
steel  cable  on  a  drum.  I  need  not  go  into  details  at  the 
moment,-  but  the  whole  apparatus  did  not  leave  Richmond 
Park  when  it  was  supposed  to  do  so.  The  wind  was  drifting 
in  the  right  direction,  the  balloon  could  be  more  or  less 
controlled — certainly  as  to  height.  I  have  learned  that 
there  was  a  telephone  from  the  car  down  to  the  ground. 
Desperate  men,  resolved  to  stick  at  nothing,  might  well  have 
arranged  for  the  balloon  to  rise  above  the  City — the  cable 
was  quite  long  enough  for  that — and  descend  upon  part 
of  it  by  means  of  a  parachute,  or,  if  not  that,  a  hanging 
rope.  More  dangerous  feats  than  that  have  been  done  in 
the  air  and  are  upon  record.  It  seems  to  me  there  is  no 
doubt  whatever  that  this  is  the  way  the  two  men  broke 
through  all  our  precautions." 


252  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

There  was  a  long  silence  when  he  had  spoken.  Mendoza 
Morse  leant  back  in  his  chair  with  the  perspiration  glit- 
tering in  little  beads  upon  his  face,  but  he  wore  an  aspect 
of  relief. 

"You've  sure  got  it,  my  friend,"  he  said  at  length,  "that 
was  how  the  trick  was  done!  It  was  the  one  possibility 
which  had  never  occurred  to  me,  and  hence  we  were  unpro- 
vided. Well,  that  relieves  my  mind  to  a  certain  extent.  We 
can  take  it  that  we  are  safe  in  the  City,  if  Midwinter  has 
escaped.    How  are  we  to  make  an  end  of  him?" 

"The  difficulty  is,"  I  said,  "that  we  are,  so  to  speak, 
both  literally  and  actually  above,  or  outside,  the  Law.  If 
that  were  not  so,  if  ordinary  methods  could  deal  with  this 
man,  or  could  have  dealt  with  the  Hermandad  in  the  past, 
Mr.  Morse  would  never  have  planned  and  built  the  eighth 
wonder  of  the  world.  No  word  of  what  has  happened  in 
the  last  day  or  two  must  get  down  to  the  public — isn't  that 
so?" 

Morse  nodded.  "It  goes  without  sajang,"  he  said.  "We 
have  our  own  law  in  the  City  in  the  Clouds.  At  the  present 
moment,  there  are  three  bodies  awaiting  final  disposal — 
and  there  won't  be  any  inquest  on  them." 

"That,"  Rolston  broke  in,  "was  something  I  was  waiting 
to  hear.    It's  important." 

He  stopped,  and  looked  at  me  with  his  usual  modesty, 
as  if  waiting  permission  to  speak.  I  smiled  at  him,  and  he 
went  on. 

"It  is  an  absolute  necessity,"  he  said,  "to  enter  into 
the  psychology  of  Midwinter.     We  may  be  sure  that  his 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  253 

purpose  is  as  strong  as  ever.  The  death  of  Zorilla,  and  his 
present  failure,  will  not  deter  him  in  the  least,  knowing 
what  we  know  of  him?" 

He  looked  inquiringly  at  Morse. 

"It  won't  turn  him  a  hair's  breadth,"  said  the  millionaire. 
"If  he  was  mad  with  blood-lust  and  hatred  before,  he  must 
be  ten  times  worse  now." 

"So  I  thought,  sir.  He  has  lost  his  companion,  as  des- 
perate and  as  cunning  as  himself,  but  we  can  be  quite  cer- 
tain that  he  is  not  without  resources.  I  think  it  safe  to 
assume  that  he  has  practically  an  unlimited  supply  of  money. 
He  must  have  other  confederates,  though  whether  they  are 
in  his  full  confidence  or  not  is  a  debatable  question.  That, 
however,  at  the  moment,  is  not  of  great  importance.  We 
have  him  in  London,  let  us  suppose,  for  it  is  the  safest  place 
in  the  world  for  a  man  to  hide — in  London,  determined,  and 
hungering  for  revenge.  We  have  no  idea  what  his  next 
scheme  will  be,  and  in  all  human  probability  he  hasn't 
planned  either.  He  must  be  considerably  shaken.  He  will 
know,  now,  how  tremendously  strong  our  defenses  are,  and 
it  will  not  escape  a  man  of  his  intelligence  that  they  will 
now  be  greatly  strengthened.  It  will  take  him  some  time 
to  gather  his  wits  together  and  work  out  another  scheme. 
The  only  thing  to  do,  it  seems  to  me,  is  to  force  his  hand." 

"And  ho^/?"  Morse  and  I  said,  simultaneously. 

"We  must  trap  him — not  here  at  all,  but  down  there,  in 
London" — ^he  made  a  little  gesture  towards  the  floor  with 
his  hand,  and  as  he  did  so,  once  more  the  strange  and 
eerie  remembrance  of  where  we  were  came  over  me,  lost 


254  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

for  a  time  in  the  comfortable  seclusion  of  a  room  that  might 
have  been  in  Berkeley  Square. 

"Here  we,  that  is  the  Press,  come  in,"  said  Rolston,  smil- 
ing proudly  at  me. 

I  smiled  inwardly  at  the  grandiloquence  of  the  tone,  and 
yet,  how  true  it  was! — this  lad  who,  so  short  a  time  ago 
had  got  to  see  me  by  a  trick,  was  certainly  the  most  bril- 
liant modern  journalist  I  had  ever  met.  I  made  him  a 
little  bow,  and,  delighted  beyond  measure,  he  continued. 

"Let  it  be  put  about,"  he  said,  "with  plenty  of  detail, 
rumor,  contradiction  of  the  rumor  and  so  on — in  fact  we  will 
get  up  a  little  stunt  about  it — that  Mr.  Mendoza  Morse  has 
tired  of  his  whim.  For  a  time,  at  any  rate,  he  is  going  to 
make  his  reappearance  in  the  world.  If  necessary,  announce 
Miss  Juanita's  engagement  to  Sir  Thomas.  Get  all  London 
interested  and  excited  again." 

Morse  nodded,  his  face  wrinkled  with  thought.  "I  think 
I  see,"  he  said,  "but  go  on." 

"When  this  is  done,  let  us  put  ourselves  in  Midwinter's 
place.  I  believe  that  he  will  have  no  suspicion  of  a  trap. 
He  will  argue  it  in  this  way.  We  are  too  much  afraid  of 
him  to  attack  ourselves.  Hitherto,  all  our  measures  have 
been  measures  of  defense  and  escape.  It  will  hardly  occur 
to  him  that  we  have  changed  all  our  tactics.  He  will  think 
that,  with  the  failure  of  his  attempt,  the  bad  failure,  and 
the  death  of  Zorilla — which  I  have  no  doubt  he  will  have 
discovered  by  now — we  imagine  he  will  abandon  all  his 
attempts.  He  will  say  to  himself  that  we  now  believe  our- 
selves safe  and  that  his  power  is  over,  his  initiative  broken, 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  255 

that  he  will  never  dare  to  go  on  with  his  campaign.  Every- 
thing seems  in  favor  of  it.  I  should  say  that  it  is  a  hundred 
to  one  that  his  line  of  thought  will  be  precisely  as  I  have 
said." 

"By  Jove,  and  I  think  so,  too!  Good  for  you,  Rolston!" 
I  shouted,  seeing  where  he  was  going. 

His  boyish  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles.  "Thank  you," 
he  said.  "Well,  we  are  to  lay  a  trap,  and  it  is  on  the  de- 
tails of  that  trap  that  everything  depends.  I  see,  by  to- 
day's Times,  that  Birmingham  House  in  Berkeley  Square, 
is  to  let.  The  Duke  is  ordered  a  long  cruise  in  the  Pacific. 
Let  Mr.  Morse  immmediately  take  the  house  and  issue  invi- 
tations for  a  great  ball  to  celebrate  Miss  Juanita's  engage- 
ment. If  that  house  and  that  ball  are  not  to  Midwinter  as 
a  candle  is  to  a  moth,  then  my  theory  is  useless!  Somehow 
or  other  he  will  be  there,  either  before  or  actually  on  the 
occasion.  By  some  means  or  other  he  will  get  into  the 
house." 

He  stopped,  and  with  a  little  apologetic  look  took  out  his 
cigarette  case  and  began  to  smoke.  He  really  was  wonder- 
ful. This  was  the  lad,  airily  ordering  one  of  the  richest  men 
in  the  world  to  take  the  Duke  of  Birmingham's  great  man- 
sion, whose  capital  but  a  few  short  weeks  ago  was  one  penny, 
bronze.  I  remember  how  he  was  forced  to  confess  it  to  me, 
even  as  I  congratulated  him. 

We  talked  on  for  another  half-hour,  or  rather  little  Bill 
Rolston  talked,  the  rest  of  us  only  putting  in  a  word  now 
and  then.  He  seemed  to  have  mapped  out  every  detail  of 
the  new  campaign,  and  we  were  content  to  listen  and  admire. 


256  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Of  course  I  am  not  a  person  without  original  ideas,  or 
unaccustomed  to  organization — my  career,  such  as  it  is,  has 
proved  that.  But  on  that  night,  at  least,  I  could  initiate 
nothing,  and  I  was  even  glad  when  the  conference  came 
to  an  end.  Morse  was  much  the  same — ^he  confessed  it 
to  me  as  we  left  the  room — and  the  truth  is  that  we  were 
both  feeling  the  results  of  the  terrible  shocks  we  had  under- 
gone. Rolston  was  younger  and  fresher,  and  besides  his 
peril  had  not  been  as  great  as  mine  or  the  millionaire's. 

Pu-Yi  vanished  in  his  mysterious  fashion,  and  Morse, 
Rolston  and  I  went  to  dirmer.  There  was  no  question  of 
dressing  on  such  a  night  as  this,  but,  if  you  believe  me, 
the  meal  was  a  merry  one! 

It  was  Juanita's  whim  to  have  dinner  served  in  a  won- 
derful conservatory  built  out  on  that  side  of  the  Palacete 
which  looked  upon  the  gardens  separating  it  from  the  eastern 
villa  where  Rolston  and  I  were  housed.  The  place  was  yet 
another  of  the  fantastic  marvels  conjured  up  by  Morse  and 
his  millions.  It  was  an  exact  reproduction  of  a  similar 
conservatory  at  my  host's  house  in  Rio  de  Janeiro,  and  had 
been  carried  out  at  a  frightful  cost  by  the  greatest  land- 
scape gardener  and  the  most  celebrated  scenic  artist  in 
existence. 

We  sat  at  a  little  table,  surrounded  by  tall  palm  trees 
rising  from  thick,  tropical  undergrowth,  a  gay  striped  awn- 
ing was  over  our  heads,  protecting  us  from  what  seemed 
brilliant  sunshine.  On  every  side  was  the  golden  rain  of 
mimosa,  masses  of  deep  crimson  blossoms,  and  wax-like  mag- 
nolia flowers.    From  a  marble  pool  of  clear  water  sprang 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  257 

a  little  fountain — a  laughing  rod  of  diamonds.  In  the  dis- 
tance, seen  over  a  marble  balustrade,  was  the  deep  blue  of 
the  tropic  sea  dominated  by  the  great  sugar-loaf  mountain, 
the  Pao  de  Azucar. 

It  was  an  illusion,  of  course,  but  it  was  perfect.  That 
sea,  and  the  gleaming  mountain,  which,  from  where  we  sat, 
seemed  so  real,  was  but  a  cleverly  painted  cloth.  The  warm 
and  scented  air  came  to  us  through  concealed  pipes,  and 
down  in  the  lower  portion  of  the  City,  patient,  moon-faced 
Chinamen  were  at  work  to  produce  it.  The  sunlight,  actu- 
ally as  brilliant  as  real  sunlight,  was  the  result  of  a  costly 
installation  of  those  marvelous  and  newly  invented  lamps 
which  are  used  in  the  great  cinema  studios.  Only  the  trees 
and  the  flowers  were  real. 

Outside,  it  was  a  keen,  cold  night.  We  were  perched 
on  the  top  of  gaunt,  steel  towers,  more  than  two  thousand 
feet  in  the  air,  and  yet,  I  swear  to  you,  all  thought  of  our 
surroundings,  and  even  of  our  peril,  was  banished  for  a  brief 
and  laughing  hour.  Like  the  tired  traveler  in  some  clearing 
of  those  lovely  South  American  forests  from  which  the  wealth 
of  Morse  had  sprung,  we  had  forgotten  the  patient  jaguar 
that  follows  in  the  tree-tops  for  a  week  of  days  to  strike 
at  last. 

I  dwell  upon  this  scene  because  it  was  another  of  those 
little  interludes,  during  my  life  in  the  City  of  the  Clouds, 
which  stand  out  in  such  brilliant  relief  from  the  encircling 
horrors. 

Juanita  was  in  the  highest  spirits.  I  had  never  seen  her 
more  lovely  or  more  animated.     Morse  himself,  always  a 


258  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

trifle  grim,  unbent  to  a  sardonic  humor.  He  told  us  story 
after  story  of  his  early  life,  with  shrewd  flashes  of  wit  and 
wisdom,  revealing  the  keen  and  mordaunt  intellect  which 
had  made  him  what  he  was.  A  wonderful  pink  champagne 
from  Austria,  looted  from  the  Imperial  cellars  during  the 
war,  and  priceless  even  then,  poured  new  life  into  our  veins 
— it  was  impossible  to  believe  in  the  tragedy  of  the  last  few 
hours,  in  the  shadow  of  any  tragedy  to  come. 

We  adjourned  to  the  music-room  after  dinner,  an  apart- 
ment paneled  in  cedar-wood  and  with  a  wagon  roof,  and 
Juanita  played  and  sang  to  us  for  a  time.  It  was  just  ten 
o'clock  when  Rolston  looked  at  his  watch  and  gave  me  a 
significant  glance.  I  rose  and  said  good-night,  both  Morse 
and  Juanita  announcing  their  intention  of  going  to  bed. 

As  we  came  to  the  outside  door,  Bill  turned  to  me. 

"Hadn't  you  better  go  back  to  our  house,  Sir  Thomas, 
and  sleep?     Remember  what  you  have  been  through." 

"Sleep?  I  couldn't  sleep  if  I  tried!  I  feel  as  fit  and 
well  as  ever  I  did — why?" 

"I've  promised  to  meet  Mr.  Pu-Yi  in  the  office  of  the  chief 
of  the  staff.  Reports  will  be  coming  in  of  the  search  which 
has  been  going  on  all  the  evening.  I  am  anxious  to  see  how 
far  it  has  got,  though  of  course  if  Midwinter  had  been 
found,  or  any  trace  of  him,  we  should  have  been  informed 
at  once.    And  there  is  something  else,  also — " 

He  stopped,  and  I  made  no  inquiries.  "Well,  I'm  with 
you,"  I  said;  for  I  felt  ready  for  anything  that  might  come, 
in  a  state  of  absolute,  pleasant  acquiescence  in  the  present 
and  the  future.    I  hadn't  a  tremor  of  fear  or  anxiety. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  259 

One  of  those  noiseless,  toy,  electric  automobiles  which  I 
had  already  seen  when  Juanita  first  showed  me  the  City,  was 
waiting.  We  got  in,  and  buzzed  through  the  gardens,  and 
down  the  tunnel  which  led  to  Grand  Square.  As  we  went, 
I  saw  shadowy  figures  patrolling  ever5rwhere.  The  whole 
place  was  alive  with  guards — my  girl  could  sleep  well  this 
night! 

As  we  came  out  of  the  tunnel  I  motioned  to  Bill  to  go 
slowly,  and  he  pulled  the  lever,  or  whatever  it  was,  that 
controlled  the  speed.  In  almost  complete  silence  we  began 
to  circle  the  huge  inclosure,  the  tires  making  no  noise  what- 
ever upon  the  floor  of  wood  blocks. 

The  air  was  keen,  cold,  and  wonderfully  pure.  There 
was  not  a  cloud  in  the  heavens,  and  one  looked  up  at  a 
far-flung  vault  of  black  velvet  spangled  with  gold.  Never 
had  I  seen  the  stars  so  clear  and  brilliant  in  England,  for 
the  haze  of  smoke  and  the  miasma  of  overbreathed  air  which 
is  the  natural  atmosphere  of  London  lay  two  thousand  feet 
below.  The  Grand  Square  blazed  with  light.  The  build- 
ings, with  their  spires,  domes  and  cupolas,  stood  out  with 
extraordinary  clearness  against  the  circimiambient  black  of 
space.  No  outline  was  soft  or  blurred,  everything  was  viv- 
idly, fantastically  real.  A  veritable  scene  from  the  old 
Arabian  Nights  indeed !  And  something  of  the  same  thought 
must  have  come  to  my  companion,  for  he  looked  up  and 
said:  "I  once  saw  an  extraordinary  illustration  by  Willy 
Pogany  of  one  of  De  Quincey's  opium  dreams — ^here  it  is, 
only  a  thousand  times  more  marvelous!" 

The  fountain  in  the  middle  of  the  Square — a  long  dis- 


26o  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

tance  away  it  seemed  as  we  slowly  skirted  the  buildings — 
made  a  ghostly  laughter  as  it  sprang  from  its  dragon- 
supported  basin  of  bronze.  The  gilded  cupola  of  the  ob- 
servatory shone  with  a  wan  radiance,  higher  than  all  else, 
and  a  black  triangle  in  the  gold  told  me  that  the  patient  old 
Chinese  astronomer  surveyed  the  heavens,  lost  in  a  waking 
dream  of  the  Infinite,  probably  loftily  unconscious  of  all 
that  had  been  going  on  in  the  magic  city  at  his  feet.  I 
envied  that  serene,  Oriental  philosopher,  Juanita's  special 
friend  and  pet,  who  lived  up  there  in  his  observatory,  and, 
so  I  was  told,  hardly  ever  descended  for  any  purpose  at  all. 
He  was  as  inviolate  a  hermit  as  Saint  Anthony.  It  was  espe- 
cially curious  that  I  should  have  cast  my  glance  heaven- 
wards and  have  thought  of  that  ancient  sage  at  this  mo- 
ment.   You  will  learn  why  afterwards. 

We  stopped  at  one  of  the  white  kiosks,  from  the  interior 
of  which  the  hydraulic  lifts  went  down  to  the  lower  part 
of  the  City.  It  was  in  an  upper  story  of  that  that  the  chief 
of  the  staff  had  his  office,  and,  mounting  a  flight  of  steps, 
we  entered,  to  find  Pu-Yi  sitting  at  a  roll-top  desk,  scrutiniz- 
ing a  handful  of  paper  reports. 

"It  is  nearly  over.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  rising  and  plac- 
ing chairs  for  us.  "Almost  every  inch  of  the  City  has  been 
searched,  and  but  little  remains  to  be  done.  There  is  not 
a  single  trace  of  the  man,  Midwinter." 

I  own  that  to  hear  this  was  a  great  relief.  We  were 
all  of  us  fired  with  Rolston's  plan  of  a  trap  down  below 
in  London.  His  theory  seemed  to  be  correct.  Midwinter 
had  somehow  escaped,  and  we  should  meet  him  in  due 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  261 

time — for  I  had  never  a  doubt  of  that.  Meanwhile,  Juan- 
ita  and  her  father  were  safe. 

"It  is  only  what  I  expected,  though  how  on  earth  he  man- 
aged to  get  away  remains  to  be  seen!" 

"It  will  come  to  light  in  due  course,"  Pu-Yi  replied. 
"And  now,  Sir  Thomas,  are  you  prepared  to  accompany  me 
and  Mr.  Rolston?  There  are  certain  things  to  be  done,  and 
I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  as  a  witness." 

"Anything  you  like — but  what  is  it?" 

"You  must  remember  that  the  bodies  of  three  dead  men 
await  disposal,"  he  replied.  "What  remains  of  Zorilla — 
he  fell  into  the  lake  on  the  first  stage,  though  of  course  he 
was  dead,  strangled  in  mid-air,  long  before  the  impact. 
Then  there  is  Mulligan,  who  died  in  defense  of  the  City; 
finally  Sen,  the  boy  from  my  own  province  in  China,  of 
whose  terrible  end  you  are  aware." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  asked. 

"We  must  keep  to  our  policy  of  secrecy  and  noninter- 
ference by  the  outside  world.  The  bodies  must  be  de- 
stroyed, and  by  fire." 

I  gave  a  little  inward  shudder,  but  I  don't  think  he  no- 
ticed it,  and  in  a  minute  more  we  were  dropping  to  the 
lower  City  in  a  rapid  lift. 

It  was  in  a  furnace-room  that  provided  some  of  the  hot 
air  for  the  conservatories  on  the  stage  above  that  I  witnessed 
the  ghastly  and  unceremonious  finish  of  the  mortal  parts  of 
the  Spaniard  and  the  Irishman,  and  it  was  cruel  and  sordid 
to  a  degree — or  so  it  seemed  to  me.  The  long  bundle  of 
sacking  which  contained  that  which  had  housed  the  evil 


262  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

soul  of  Senor  Don  Zorilla  y  Toro — I  resisted  a  bland  invi- 
tation on  the  part  of  a  stoker  in  a  blue  jumper  and  a  pleased 
smile  to  examine  the  stiff  horror — was  slung  through  an 
iron  door  into  a  white  and  glowing  core  of  flame.  There 
was  a  clang  as  the  long,  steel  rods  of  the  firemen  pushed 
it  to,  and  I  cannot  say  that  I  felt  much  regret,  only  a 
sort  of  shuddering  sickness  and  relief  that  the  door  was 
closed  so  swiftly. 

But  it  was  different  in  the  case  of  Mulligan.  I  blamed 
Morse  in  my  heart.  The  man  had  been  strangled  when 
saying  his  prayers.  He  was  of  the  millionaire's  own  reli- 
gion, and  there  should  have  been  a  priest  to  assist  at  these 
fiery  obsequies  of  a  faithful  servant.  I  learned  afterwards, 
I  am  glad  to  say,  that  Morse  had  not  been  consulted,  and 
knew  nothing  about  the  actual  disposal  of  the  bodies  until 
afterwards.  You  see  the  shock  came — Rolston  felt  it  too — 
from  the  fact  that  these  bland  and  silent  Asiatics  were 
utterly  without  any  emotion  as  they  performed  their  task. 
They  were  heathens,  worshiping  Heaven  knows  what  in 
their  tortuous  and  secret  souls.  As  poor  Mulligan — they 
had  put  the  body  in  a  coffin  and  it  took  eight  struggling, 
sweating  Orientals  to  hoist  and  slide  it  into  the  furnace — 
vanished  from  my  eyes,  I  put  my  hands  before  my  face  and 
said  such  portions  of  the  Protestant  burial  service  as  I 
remembered,  and  they  were  very  few. 

"They're  nasty  beasts,  aren't  they.  Sir  Thomas?"  Rolston 
whispered,  as  we  fled  the  furnace  room.  "Soulless,  just  like 
machines!" 

We  waited  for  Pu-Yi  for  a  minute  or  two. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  263 

"I  thank  you,  Sir  Thomas,  and  Mr.  Rolston,"  he  said  in 
his  calm,  silky  voice,  "It  was  as  well  that  you  saw  the  dis- 
posal of  the  dead,  though  it  is  only  a  remote  contingency 
that  there  will  ever  be  inquiry.  And  now,  if  you  wish,  I 
will  send  you  up  again.  I,  myself,  must  attend  to  the 
obsequies  of  my  compatriot." 

"Oh,"  I  remarked,  and  I  fear  my  tone  was  far  from 
pleasant,  "you  propose  to  be  rather  more  ceremonious  in 
the  case  of  the  lad,  Sen?" 

For  a  single  moment  I  saw  that  calm  and  gentle  face 
disturbed.  Something  looked  out  of  it  that  was  not  good 
to  see,  but  it  was  gone  in  a  flash.  This  was  the  first  and 
last  time  that  I  had  a  shadow  of  disagreement  with  the 
man  whose  life  I  had  saved  and  who  saved  mine  in  re- 
turn. It  was  natural,  I  think — neither  of  us  was  to  blame. 
"East  is  East  and  West  is  West,"  and  there  are  some  points 
at  least  at  which  they  can  never  meet.  Poor  Pu-Yi!  He 
had  as  fine  an  intellect  as  any  man  I  ever  met,  and  was  a 
great  gentleman.  I  wish  I  could  look  upon  him  once  more 
as  I  write  this,  but,  though  I  didn't  know  it,  the  sand  in 
the  glass  was  nearly  out  and  our  hours  together  dwindling 
fast. 

We  followed  him  through  various  twists  and  turns  of 
the  under  City,  among  the  huts  and  storehouses,  thronged 
with  silent  people — it  was  like  moving  in  the  interior  of 
a  hive  of  bees — until,  by  means  of  an  archway  and  a  closed 
door,  we  emerged  in  a  sort  of  courtyard  surrounded  on  three 
sides  by  buildings.  On  the  fourth  was  a  rail,  breast-high, 
and  above  and  around  was  open  night. 


264  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

"We  can't  take  his  body  to  China,"  said  oxir  guide.  ''We 
must  burn  it  here,  and  only  the  ashes  will  rest  in  the 
village  of  his  ancestors.  But  it  is  well.  Such  cases  are  pro- 
vided for  in  my  religion," 

We  then  saw  that  in  the  center  of  the  yard  there  was 
a  low  funeral  pile,  apparently  of  wood.  Two  men  in  long, 
yellow  gowns  were  pouring  some  liquid  over  it. 

"If  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  come  this  way,"  said 
Pu-Yi,  and  we  entered  a  long,  bare  room.  In  the  center 
of  this  place  there  was  a  large  square  box  of  painted  wood, 
the  lid  of  which  was  not  yet  in  place.  The  body  of  the 
dead  man  was  sitting  in  the  box,  the  hands  clasped  round 
the  knees.  The  nose,  ears  and  mouth  were  filled  with  ver- 
milion, which,  to  our  Western  eyes,  gave  a  horrible,  gro- 
tesque appearance  to  the  brown,  wrinkled  mask  of  the  face. 
Poor  Sen's  countenance  was  placid  enough,  but  it  was  not 
like  that  of  even  a  dead  man,  a  fantastic  image,  rather. 

A  gong  beat  with  a  sudden  hollow  reverberation,  and 
from  another  door  a  file  of  mourners  entered. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  room  was  a  table  upon  which 
was  a  painted  tablet.  "It  bears,"  whispered  Pu-Yi,  "the 
name  under  which  Sen  enters  salvation." 

Two  men  swinging  censers  stood  by  the  table,  and  two 
others,  a  little  nearer  the  corpse,  held  bronze  bowls  of 
water.  First  Pu-Yi,  and  then  the  other  mourners,  dipped 
their  hands  in  the  water  to  purify  them,  and  then,  pro- 
ducing paper  packets  of  incense  from  their  bosoms,  they 
threw  a  pinch  into  the  censers  with  the  right  hand  and 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  265 

bowed  low  to  the  table,  retiring  backwards.  It  was  all  done 
with  the  precision  of  a  drill  and  in  absolute  silence,  and 
for  my  part  I  found  it  no  less  ghastly  and  unreal  than  the 
brutal  scene  in  the  furnace-room  below. 

''Come  out,"  I  whispered  to  Rolston,  and  we  reentered 
the  pure  air,  walking  to  the  rail  at  one  side  of  the  square. 

We  leant  over.  Far,  far  below,  so  far  that  it  was  sensa- 
tion rather  than  vision,  was  a  faint,  full  glow,  the  night 
lights  of  London,  but  of  the  city  itself  nothing  could  be 
seen  whatever.  Even  the  burnished  ribbon  of  the  Thames 
had  disappeared,  and  no  sound  rose  from  the  capital  of 
the  world.  There  was  a  thin  whispering  round  us  as  the 
night  breezes  blew  through  steel  stay  and  cantilever,  a  faint 
humming  noise  like  that  of  some  gigantic  iEolian  harp. 
And  once,  as  we  bathed  ourselves  in  the  cool,  the  immensity 
and  the  dark,  there  was  a  rush  of  whirring  wings,  and  the 
''honk-konk"  of  the  wild  duck  from  the  great  lake  fifteen 
hundred  feet  below,  as  they  passed  in  wedge-shaped  flight 
on  some  mysterious  night  errand.  We  leant  and  gazed, 
filled  with  awe  and  solemnity,  until  a  low,  wailing  chant  and 
the  thin,  piercing  notes  of  single-wire-strung  violins  made 
us  turn  to  see  the  square  box  hoisted  on  the  bier,  a  torch 
applied,  and  a  roaring  spitting  column  of  yellow  flame 
towering  up  above  the  buildings  and  throwing  a  ghastly 
light  on  a  hundred  round,  mask-like  faces,  indistinguishable 
one  from  the  other  by  European  eyes. 

As  I  read  now,  ten  years  afterwards,  that  scene  among 
so  many  others  comes  back  to  me  with  extraordinary  vivid- 


266  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

ness.  And  it  seems  to  me  as  I  live  my  English  life  in  honor, 
tranquillity,  and  happiness,  that  it  was  all  a  monstrous 
dream. 

Surely — yes,  I  think  I  am  safe  in  saying  this — there  will 
never  again  be  such  a  place  of  horror  and  fantasy  as  the 
City  in  the  Clouds. 


CHAPTER    FOURTEEN 

I  SLEPT  that  night  like  a  log,  untroubled  by  dreams,  and 
woke  late  the  next  morning.  It  was  then  that,  as  the  say- 
ing is,  I  got  it  in  the  neck.  "Wow!"  I  half-shouted,  half- 
groaned,  as  I  turned  to  meet  the  Chinese  valet  with  the 
morning  cup  of  tea.  My  whole  body  seemed  one  bruise, 
my  joints  turned  to  pith,  and,  what  was  worse  than  all,  my 
brain — a  pretty  active  organ,  take  it  all  in  all — seemed 
stuffed  with  wool. 

It  was  the  reaction,  only  to  be  expected,  as  the  Richmond 
doctor  said  to  me  some  three  hours  later.  For  the  next  two 
or  three  days  I  was  to  do  nothing  at  all,  after  my  "bad  fall," 
which  was  the  way  my  state  had  been  explained  to  him. 
Whether  he  believed  it  or  not,  I  cannot  tell.  It  was  cer- 
tainly odd  that  Mr.  Mendoza  Morse,  whom  he  also  at- 
tended, should  be  in  very  much  the  same  state  of  shock  and 
semi-collapse.  But  he  was  a  discreet,  clean-shaven  gentle- 
man, with  a  comfortable  manner,  and  in  the  seventh  heaven 
at  being  admitted  to  the  mysterious  City  in  the  Clouds, 
his  eyes  everywhere  as  he  was  being  conducted  through  its 
wonders  to  our  bedsides — so  Rolston  told  me  afterwards. 
At  any  rate,  he  was  right.  It  was  certainly  necessary  to 
go  slow  for  a  few  days,  and  fortunately,  now  that  the  search 
was  over  and  no  trace  of  Midwinter  discovered,  we  felt 
we  could  do  this. 

267 


268  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

The  preliminary  arrangements  for  our  final  effort  were 
left  in  Rolston's  hands,  who  descended  with  the  doctor,  and 
I  did  not  rise  till  mid-day. 

I  met  Morse  at  lunch — piano,  and  distinctly  under  the 
weather  from  a  physical  point  of  view.  We  neither  of  us 
talked  of  important  matters,  but  enjoyed  a  stroll  round 
the  City  during  a  bright  afternoon.  At  tea-time  we  met 
Juanita,  and  I  had  a  long  and  happy  talk  with  her.  She 
knew,  of  course,  that  the  search  had  proved  satisfactory, 
and — as  we  had  all  agreed  together — I  led  her  to  think  that 
all  danger  was  now  practically  over.  Indeed,  as  far  as 
Morse  and  she  were  concerned,  I  believed  it  myself.  I  knew 
that  there  was  yet  a  grim  tussle  ahead  for  the  rest  of  us, 
but  that  was  all.  I  did  not  see  her  at  dinner,  but  took 
the  meal  alone  in  my  own  house.  Rolston  was  still  absent, 
and  as  I  did  not  want  to  talk  to  any  one,  failing  Juanita, 
I  was  quite  happy  by  myself. 

About  nine  o'clock  I  was  rung  up  on  the  telephone. 
Morse  spoke.  He  said  he  was  now  thoroughly  rested,  and 
was  ready  for  a  chat.  If  I  hadn't  seen  the  treasures  of 
the  library  yet,  he  and  Pu-Yi  would  be  pleased  to  show 
them  to  me.  And  so,  slipping  on  a  coat  over  my  evening 
clothes,  and  taking  a  light  cane  in  my  hand,  I  started  out 
for  Grand  Square.  It  was  again,  I  may  mention  here,  a 
fine  and  calm  night. 

My  host  and  the  Chinaman  were  waiting  for  me  in  the 
great,  Gothic  room,  and  we  inspected  the  treasures  in  some 
of  the  glass-fronted  shelves.  I  was  surprised  and  delighted 
to  find  that  my  future  father-in-law  had  a  real  love  for,  and 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  269 

a  considerable  knowledge  of,  books.  It  was  a  side  of  him 
I  had  not  seen  before.  I  had  not  connected  him  with  the 
arts  in  any  way,  which,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  was 
rather  foolish.  Certainly  he  had  the  finest  expert  advice 
and  help  to  be  foimd  in  the  whole  world  in  the  building 
of  the  City  in  the  Clouds.  But  I  should  have  remembered 
that  the  initial  conception  was  his  own  and  that  many 
of  the  details  also  came  entirely  from  his  brain.  Certainly, 
in  his  way,  Mendoza  Morse  was  a  creative  artist. 

My  own  collection  of  books  at  Stax,  my  place  in  Hert- 
fordshire, is,  of  course,  well  known,  and  always  mentioned 
when  English  libraries  are  under  discussion.  But  Morse 
could  boast  treasures  far  beyond  me.  During  the  last  year 
or  two  I  had  been  so  busy  in  working  up  the  Evening  Spe- 
cial that  I  had  quite  neglected  to  follow  the  book  sales,  but 
I  learned  now  that  some  of  the  rarest  treasures  obtainable 
had  been  quietly  bought  up  on  Morse's  behalf.  He  had 
all  the  folios,  and  most  of  the  quartos,  of  Shakespeare,  a 
fine  edition  of  Spenser's  "Faerie  Queene"  with  an  inscrip- 
tion to  Florio,  the  great  Elizabethan  scholar;  there  was 
Boswell's  own  copy  of  Johnson's  "Lives  of  the  Poets," 
with  a  ponderous  Latin  inscription  in  the  sturdy  old  doc- 
tor's own  hand,  and  many  other  treasures  as  rare,  though 
not  perhaps  of  such  popular  and  general  interest. 

Pu-Yi  made  us  some  marvelous  tea  in  the  Chinese  fashion, 
with  a  sort  of  ritual  which  was  impressive  as  he  moved  about 
the  table  and  waved  his  long  pale  hands.  It  was  of  a 
faint,  straw  color,  with  neither  sugar,  milk,  or  lemon,  and 
he  assured  me  that  it  came  from  the  stores  of  the  Forbidden 


270  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

City  in  Pekin.  Certainly,  it  was  nasty  enough  for  anything, 
and  I  praised  it  as  I  had  praised  Morse's  rose-colored  cham- 
pagne the  night  before — but  with  less  sincerity. 

I  don't  know  if  my  friend  had  a  touch  of  homesickness 
or  not,  but  he  began  to  tell  us  of  his  home  by  the  waters  of 
the  Yang-Tse-Kiang.  His  precise  and  literary  English  rose 
and  fell  in  that  great  room  with  a  singular  charm,  and 
though  I  don't  think  Morse  listened  much,  he  smoked  a 
cigar  with  great  good-humor  while  Pu-Yi  expounded  his 
quaint.  Eastern  philosophy.  We  did  not  refer  to  the  grim 
scenes  of  the  night  before,  but  something  I  said  turned 
the  conversation  to  the  funeral  customs  of  China. 

"Indeed,  Sir  Thomas,"  said  Pu-Yi,  "the  death  of  a  man 
of  my  nation  may  be  said  to  be  the  most  important  act  of 
his  whole  life.  For  then  only  can  his  personal  existence 
be  properly  considered  to  begin." 

This  seemed  a  somewhat  startling  proposition,  and  I  said 
so,  but  he  proceeded  to  explain.  I  shall  not  easily  forget 
his  little  monologue,  every  word  of  which  I  remember  for 
a  very  sad  and  poignant  reason.  Well,  he  knows  all  about 
it  now,  and  I  hope  he  is  happy. 

"It  is  in  this  way,"  he  said.  "By  death  a  man  joins  the 
great  company  of  ancestors  who  are,  to  us,  people  of  almost 
more  consequence  than  living  folk,  and  of  much  more  in- 
dividual distinction.  It  is  then  at  last,"  he  continued,  deli- 
cately sipping  his  tea,  "that  the  individual  receives  that 
recognition  which  was  denied  him  in  the  flesh.  Our  ancestors 
are  given  a  dwelling  of  their  own  and  devotedly  reverenced. 
This,  I  know,  will  seem  strange  to  Western  ears,  but  be- 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  271 

lieve  me,  honorable  sir,  the  cult  is  anything  but  funereal. 
For  the  ancestral  tombs  are  temples  and  pleasure  pavilions 
at  the  same  time,  consecrated  not  simply  to  rites  and  cere- 
monies, but  to  family  gatherings  and  general  jollification." 

This  was  quite  a  new  view  to  me,  and  certainly  interest- 
ing.   I  said  so,  and  Pu-Yi  smiled  and  bowed. 

"And  the  fortunate  defunct,"  he  went  on,  "if  he  is  still 
half  as  sentient  as  his  dutiful  descendants  suppose,  must 
feel  that  his  earthly  life,  like  other  approved  comedies,  has 
ended  well!" 

His  voice  was  sad,  but  there  was  a  faint,  malicious  mock- 
ery in  it  also,  and  as  I  looked  at  him  with  an  answering 
smile  to  his  own,  I  wondered  whether  that  keen  and  subtle 
brain  really  believed  in  the  customs  of  his  land.  That  he 
would  be  studious  and  rigid  in  their  outward  observance,  I 
knew. 

I  never  met,  as  I  have  said  before,  a  more  courteous  gen- 
tleman than  Pu-Yi. 

"Ever  been  in  South  Germany?"  said  Morse  suddenly 
— ^he  had  evidently  been  pursuing  a  train  of  his  own  thought 
while  the  Chinaman  held  forth. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Morse,  why?" 

"Then  in  some  of  those  quaint,  old-fashioned  towns  you 
have  seen  the  storks  nesting  on  the  roofs  of  the  houses?" 

I  remembered  that  I  had. 

"Well,  I've  got  a  pair  of  storks — they  arrived  this  morn- 
ing from  Germany — duck  and  drake,  or  should  you  say 
cock  and  hen? — at  any  rate,  I've  a  sort  of  idea  of  trying 
to  domesticate  them,  and  to  that  end  have  had  a  nest  con- 


272  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

structed  on  the  roof  of  this  building,  where  they  will  be 
sheltered  by  the  parapet  and  be  high  up  above  the  roof 
of  the  City.  What  do  you  say  to  going  to  have  a  look  at 
them  and  see  if  they're  all  right?" 

Extraordinary  man!  He  had  always  some  odd  or  curi- 
ous idea  in  his  mind  to  improve  his  artificial  fairyland. 
Nothing  loth,  we  left  Pu-Yi  and  ascended  a  winding  stair- 
case to  the  roof  of  the  great  building.  Save  for  the  lantern 
in  the  center,  it  was  fiat  and  made  a  not  unpleasant  prome- 
nade. The  storks  were  at  present  in  a  cage,  and  could  only 
be  distinguished  as  bundles  of  dirty  feathers  in  a  miscel- 
laneous litter.  I  thought  my  friend's  chance  of  domesti- 
cating them  was  very  small,  but  he  seemed  to  be  immensely 
interested  in  the  problem. 

When  we  had  talked  it  over,  he  gave  me  a  cigar  and  we 
began  to  promenade  the  whole  length  of  the  roof.  As  I 
have  said,  the  night  was  clear  and  calm.  Again  the  great 
stars  globed  themselves  in  heaven  with  an  incomparable 
glory  unknown  and  unsuspected  by  those  down  below.  The 
silence  was  profound,  the  air  like  iced  wine. 

From  where  we  were,  we  had  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the 
whole  City.  Grand  Square  lay  immediately  at  our  feet, 
brilliantly  illuminated  as  usual.  Not  a  living  soul  was  to 
be  seen;  only  the  dragon- fountain  glittered  with  mysterious 
life.  To  the  right,  beyond  the  encircling  buildings  of  the 
Square,  stood  the  Palacete  Mendoza  surrounded  by  its  gar- 
dens, a  square,  white,  sleeping  pile.  I  sent  a  mental  greeting 
to  Juanita.  So  high  was  the  roof  on  which  we  stood  that 
only  one  of  the  towers  or  cupolas  rose  much  above  m.    It 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  273 

was  the  dome  of  the  observatory,  exactly  opposite  on  the 
other  side  of  Grand  Square. 

"There  is  some  one  who  isn't  much  troubled  bj'  sub-lunary 
affairs,"  I  said,  pointing  over  the  machicolade. 

Morse  nodded,  and  expelled  a  blue  cloud  of  smoke.  "I 
guess  old  Chang  is  the  most  contented  fellow  on  earth," 
he  said.  "He  is  Professor,  you  know.  Professor  Chang,  and 
an  honorary  M.A.  of  Oxford  University.  I  had  him  from 
the  Imperial  Chinese  Observatory  at  Pekin,  and  I  am  told 
he  is  on  the  track  of  a  new  comet,  or  something,  which  is 
to  be  called  after  me  when  he  has  discovered  it — thus  con- 
ferring immortality  upon  yours  truly! 

"It  is  an  odd  temper  of  mind,"  he  went  on  more  seri- 
ously, "that  can  spend  a  whole  life  in  patient  seclusion, 
peering  into  the  unknown,  and  what,  after  all,  is  the  un- 
knowable. Still,  he  is  happy,  and  that  is  the  end  of  human 
endeavor." 

He  sighed,  and  with  renewed  interest  I  stared  out  at  the 
round  dome.  The  slit  over  the  telescope  was  open,  which 
showed  that  the  astronomer  was  at  work.  In  the  gilded  half- 
circle  of  the  cupola,  it  was  exactly  like  a  cut  in  an  orange. 

I  was  about  to  make  a  remark,  when  an  extraordinary 
thing  happened. 

Without  any  hint  or  warning,  there  was  a  loud,  roaring 
sound,  like  that  of  some  engine  blowing  off  steam.  With 
a  "whoosh,"  a  great  column  of  fire,  like  golden  rain,  rose 
up  out  of  the  dark  aperture  in  the  dome,  towering  hun- 
dreds of  feet  in  the  sky,  like  the  veritable  comet  for  which 
old  Chang  was  searching,  and  burst  high  in  the  emp3^rean 


274  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

with  a  dull  explosion,  followed  by  a  swarm  of  brilliant, 
blue-white  stars. 

Some  one  inside  the  observatory  had  fired  a  gigantic 
rocket. 

Morse  gave  a  shout  of  surprise.  He  had  a  fresh  cigar 
in  his  hand,  and,  unknowingly,  he  dropped  it  and  mechani- 
cally bit  the  end  of  his  thumb  instead. 

"What  was  that?"  I  cried,  echoing  his  shout. 

He  didn't  answer,  but  grew  very  white  as  he  stepped  up 
to  the  parapet,  placed  his  hand  upon  the  stone,  and  leant 
forward. 

I  did  the  same,  and  for  nearly  a  minute  we  stared  at  the 
white,  circular  tower  in  silence. 

Nothing  happened.  There  was  the  black  slit  in  the 
gold,  enigmatic  and  undisturbed. 

"Some  experiment,"  I  stammered  at  length.  "Professor 
Chang  is  at  work  upon  some  problem." 

Morse  shook  his  head.  "Not  he!  I'll  swear  that  old 
Chang  would  never  be  letting  off  fireworks  without  con- 
sulting or  warning  Pu-Yi.  Kirby,  there  is  some  black  busi- 
ness stirring!  We  must  look  into  this.  I  don't  like  it  at 
all— hark!" 

He  suddenly  stopped  speaking,  and  put  his  hand  to  his 
ear.  His  whole  face  was  strained  in  an  ecstasy  of  listen- 
ing, which  cut  deep  gashes  into  that  stern,  gnarled  old 
countenance. 

I  listened  also,  and  with  dread  in  my  heart.  Instinctively 
and  without  any  process  of  reasoning,  I  knew  that  in  some 
way  or  other  the  horror  was  upon  us  again.    My  lips  went 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  275 

dry  and  I  moistened  them  with  the  tip  of  my  tongue;  and, 
without  conscious  thought,  my  hand  stole  round  to  my 
pistol  pocket  and  touched  the  cold  and  roughened  stock 
of  an  automatic  Webley. 

Then  I  heard  what  Morse  must  have  heard  at  first. 

The  air  all  around  us  was  vibrating,  and  swiftly  the 
vibration  became  a  throb,  a  rhythmic  beat,  and  then  a  low, 
menacing  roar  which  grew  louder  and  louder  every  second. 

We  had  turned  to  each  other,  understanding  at  last,  and 
the  same  word  was  upon  our  lips  when  the  thing  came — 
it  happened  as  rapidly  as  that. 

Skimming  over  the  top  of  the  distant  Palacete  like  some 
huge  night-hawk,  and  with  a  noise  like  a  machine  gun, 
came  a  venomous-looking,  fast-fl3dng  monoplane.  It  swept 
down  into  Grand  Square  like  a  living  thing,  just  as  the 
noise  ceased  suddenly  and  echoed  into  silence.  It  alighted 
at  one  end  and  on  the  side  of  the  fountain  nearest  the 
observatory,  ran  over  the  smooth  wood-blocks  for  a  few 
yards,  and  stopped.  It  was  as  though  the  hawk  had  pounced 
down  upon  its  prey,  and  every  detail  was  distinct  and 
clear  in  the  brilliant  light  of  the  lamps  in  the  Square  below. 

Both  of  us  seemed  frozen  where  we  stood.  I  know,  for 
my  part,  all  power  of  motion  left  me.  A  choking  noise 
came  from  Morse's  throat,  and  then  we  heard  a  cry  and 
from  immediately  below  us  came  the  figure  of  Pu-Yi,  hurry- 
ing down  the  library  steps  and  running  towards  the  aero- 
plane, which  was  still  a  considerable  distance  from  him. 

The  next  thing  happened  very  quickly.  A  door  at  the 
foot  of  the  observatory  tower  opened,  and  out  came  what 


276  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

we  both  thought  was  the  figure  of  the  astronomer.  He  was 
a  tall,  bent,  old  man,  habitually  clothed  in  a  padded,  saffron- 
colored  robe  with  a  hood,  something  like  that  of  a  monk. 

"Chang!"  I  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  when  Pu-Yi  stopped 
short  in  his  tracks,  lifted  his  arm,  and  there  was  the  crack 
of  a  pistol. 

The  figure  beyond,  which  was  hurrying  towards  the  mono- 
plane, swerved  aside.  The  robe  of  padded  silk  fell  from 
it  and  disclosed  a  tall  man  in  dark,  European  clothes.  He 
dodged  and  writhed  like  an  eel  as  Pu-Yi  emptied  his  auto- 
matic at  him,  apparently  without  the  least  result.  Then  I 
saw  that  he  was  at  the  side  of  the  aeroplane,  scrambling  up 
into  the  fuselage  assisted  by  the  pilot  in  leather  hood  and 
goggles. 

He  was  up  the  side  of  the  boat-like  structure  in  a  second, 
and  then,  with  one  leg  thrown  over  the  car  he  turned 
and  took  deliberate  aim  at  Pu-Yi.  There  was  one  crack, 
he  waited  for  an  instant  to  be  sure,  and  saw  that  it  was 
enough.  Then  there  was  a  chunk  of  machinery,  two  or 
three  loud  explosions,  a  roar,  and  the  wings  of  the  venomous 
night-hawk  moved  rapidly  over  the  parquet,  chased  by  a 
black  shadow.  It  gathered  speed,  lifted,  tilted  upwards,  and, 
clearing  the  buildings  at  the  far  end  of  the  Square,  hummed 
away  into  the  night. 

It  was  thus  that  Mark  Antony  Midwinter  escaped  from 
the  City  in  the  Clouds.  He  had  been  there  all  the  time. 
He  had  murdered  poor  old  Chang  many  hours  before,  and 
impersonated  him  with  complete  success.    The  food  of  the 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  277 

recluse  was  brought  to  him  by  servants  and  placed  in  an 
outer  room  so  that  he  should  never  be  disturbed  during 
his  calculations.  He  had  received  it  with  his  usual  mut- 
tered acknowledgments  through  a  little  guichet  in  the 
wooden  partition  which  separated  the  anteroom  from  the 
telescope  chamber  itself.  No  one  had  ever  thought  of 
doubting  that  the  astronomer  himself  was  there  as  usual. 
The  whole  thing  was  most  carefully  planned  beforehand 
with  diabolic  ingenuity  and  resource. 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 

It  was  just  three  weeks  after  the  murder  of  Pu-Yi,  and 
once  more  I  sat  in  my  chambers  in  Piccadilly.  The  day  had 
been  cloudy,  and  now,  late  in  the  afternoon,  a  heavy  fog 
had  descended  upon  the  town  through  which  fell  a  cold 
and  intermittent  rain. 

Up  there,  in  the  City  in  the  Clouds,  perhaps  the  sun 
was  pouring  down  upon  its  spires  and  cupolas,  but  Lon- 
don, Piccadilly,  was  lowering  and  sad. 

Lord  Arthur  Winstanley  and  Captain  Pat  Moore  had 
just  left  me,  both  of  them  glum  and  silent.  It  went  to  my 
heart  not  to  take  them  into  my  full  confidence,  but  to  do 
so  was  impossible.  I  had  told  them  much  of  the  recent 
events  in  the  City — I  could  not  tell  them  everything,  for 
they  would  not  have  understood.  Certainly  I  could  have 
relied  upon  their  absolute  discretion,  but,  in  view  of  what 
was  going  to  happen  that  very  night,  I  was  compelled  to 
keep  my  own  counsel.  They  had  not  lived  through  what 
I  had  recently.  Their  minds  were  not  tuned,  as  mine 
was,  to  the  sublime  disregard  and  aloofness  from  English 
law  which  obtained  in  Morse's  gigantic  refuge.  Certainly 
neither  of  them  would  have  agreed  to  what  I  proposed  to 
do  that  night. 

Preston  came  quietly  into  the  library.     He  pulled  the 

278 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  279 

curtains  and  made  up  the  fire.  The  face  of  Preston  was 
grim  and  disapproving.  He  looked  much  as  he  looked  when 
— what  ages  ago  it  seemed! — I  departed  his  comfortable  care 
to  become  the  landlord  of  the  "Golden  Swan." 

"I'm  not  at  home  to  any  one,  Preston,"  I  said,  "except 
to  Mr.  Sliddim,  who  ought  to  be  here  in  a  few  minutes.  Of 
course,  that  doesn't  apply  to  Mr.  Rolston." 

"Very  good.  Sir  Thomas,  thank  you,  Sir  Thomas,"  said 
Preston,  scowling  at  the  mention  of  the  name.  Poor  fellow, 
he  didn't  in  the  least  understand  why  I  should  be  receiv- 
ing the  furtive  and  melancholy  Sliddim  so  often,  and  should 
sit  with  him  in  conference  for  long  hours!  Afterwards, 
when  it  was  all  over,  I  interrogated  my  faithful  servant,  and 
the  state  of  his  mind  during  that  period  proved  to  have  been 
startling. 

This  seems  the  place  in  which  to  explain  exactly  what 
had  happened  up  to  date. 

When  Midwinter  had  escaped,  we  found  the  corpse  of 
poor  old  Professor  Chang,  and  the  whole  plan  was  revealed 
to  us.  Pu-Yi  had  been  shot  through  the  heart.  His  death 
must  have  been  instantaneous.  For  several  days  Morse  was 
in  a  terrible  state  of  depression  and  remorse.  He  said 
that  there  was  a  curse  upon  him,  and  it  was  with  the  great- 
est difficulty  that  Rolston  and  I  could  bring  him  into  a 
more  reasonable  frame  of  mind.  The  long  strain  had  worn 
down  even  that  iron  resolution,  but,  for  Juanita's  sake,  I 
knew  that  I  must  stand  by  him  to  the  end. 

Accordingly,  there  was  nothing  else  for  it,  Rolston  and 
I  took  entire  charge  of  everything.     I  had  never  felt  in- 


28o  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

dined  to  go  back  from  the  very  beginning.  Now  my  reso- 
lution was  firm  to  see  it  through  to  the  end. 

Rolston  pursued  his  own  plans,  and  London  very  shortly 
knew  that  Gideon  Mendoza  Morse  and  his  lovely  daughter 
were  about  to  reappear  in  the  world.  It  gave  my  little,  red- 
haired  friend  intense  pleasure  to  organize  this  mild  press 
campaign  from  the  office  of  the  Evening  Special.  I  placed 
him  in  complete  control,  to  the  intense  joy  of  Miss  Dews- 
bury  and  the  disgust  of  the  older  members  of  the  staff.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  the  thing  was  done,  and  every  one  knew 
that  Birmingham  House  had  been  taken  by  the  millionaire. 

It  was  then,  having  organized  things  as  perfectly  as  I 
could  at  the  City,  placing  Kwang-Su,  the  gigantic  gate- 
keeper of  the  ground  inclosure,  in  charge  of  the  staff,  that 
I  myself  descended  into  the  world  as  unobtrusively  as  pos- 
sible. For  a  day  or  two  I  remained  in  seclusion  at  the 
"Golden  Swan,"  and  during  those  two  days  saw  no  one  but 
the  Honest  Fool,  Mrs.  Abbs,  my  housekeeper,  and — Slid- 
dim,  the  private  inquiry  agent. 

Personally,  while  I  quite  appreciated  the  fellow's  skill  in 
his  own  dirty  work,  and  while  indeed  I  owed  him  a  con- 
siderable debt  in  the  matter  of  Bill  Rolston's  first  disappear- 
ance, I  disliked  him  too  much  ever  to  have  thought  of  him 
as  a  help  in  the  very  serious  affair  on  which  I  was  engaged. 
It  was  Rolston,  as  usual,  who  changed  my  mind.  He  saw 
farther  than  I  did.  He  realized  the  essential  secrecy  and 
fidelity  of  the  odd  creature  whom  chance  had  unearthed 
from  among  the  creeping  things  of  London,  and  in  the  end 
he  became  an  integral  part  of  the  plot. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  281 

He  was  told,  of  course,  no  more  than  was  necessary.  He 
was  not  by  any  means  in  our  full  confidence.  But  he  was 
given  a  part  to  play,  and  promised  a  reward,  if  he  played 
it  well,  that  would  make  him  independent  for  life.  Let  me 
say  at  once  that  he  fulfilled  his  duty  with  admirable  skill, 
and,  when  he  received  his  check  from  Mr.  Morse,  vanished 
forever  from  our  ken.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  is  spying 
somewhere  or  other  on  the  globe  at  this  moment,  but  I  have 
no  ambition  to  meet  him  again. 

Mr.  Sliddim,  considerably  furbished  up  in  personal  ap- 
pearance, was  made  caretaker  at  Birmingham  House  in 
Berkeley  Square.  He  had  not  been  in  that  responsible  posi- 
tion for  more  than  ten  days  when  our  fish  began  to  nibble 
at  the  bait. 

In  a  certain  little  public  house  by  some  mews  at  the 
back  of  Berkeley  Square,  a  little  public  house  which  Mr. 
Sliddim  was  instructed — and  needed  no  encouragement — to 
frequent,  he  was  one  day  accosted  by  a  tall,  middle-aged 
man  with  a  full,  handsome  face  and  a  head  of  curling, 
gray  hair.  This  man  was  dressed  in  a  seedy,  shabby- 
genteel  style,  and  soon  became  intimate  with  our  lure. 

Certainly,  to  give  him  his  due,  Sliddim  must  have  been 
a  supreme  actor  in  his  way.  He  did  the  honest,  but  intensely 
stupid  caretaker  to  the  life.  Mark  Antony  Midwinter  was 
completely  taken  in  and  pumped  our  human  conduit  for  all 
he  was  worth,  until  he  was  put  in  possession  of  an  entirely 
fictitious  set  of  circumstances,  arranged  with  the  greatest 
care  to  suit  my  plans. 

I  shall  not  easily  forget  the  evening  when  Sliddim  slunk 


282  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

into  my  dining-room  and  described  the  scene  which  told  us 
we  had  made  absolutely  no  mistake  and  that  our  fish  was 
definitely  hooked.  It  seems  that  the  good  Sliddim  had  grad- 
ually succumbed  to  the  repeated  proffer  of  strong  waters 
on  the  part  of  "Mr.  Smith,"  his  new  friend.  He  had 
bragged  of  his  position,  only  lamenting  that  some  days 
hence  it  was  to  come  to  an  end,  when,  in  the  evening,  Mr. 
Mendoza  Morse,  his  daughter,  and  a  staff  of  servants  were 
to  enter  the  house  simultaneously.  Sliddim,  the  most  con- 
sistent whisky-nipper  I  have  ever  seen — and  I  had  some 
curious  side-lights  on  that  question  when  I  was  landlord  of 
the  "Golden  Swan" — ^was  physically  almost  incapable  of 
drunkenness,  but  he  simulated  it  so  well  in  the  little  pub 
at  the  back  of  the  Square  that  Mark  Antony  Midwinter 
made  no  ado  about  taking  the  latchkey  of  Birmingham 
House  area  door  from  his  pocket  and  making  a  waxen 
impression  of  it. 

Rolston  and  I  knew  that  we  were  "getting  very  hot,"  as 
the  children  say  when  they  are  playing  Hunt-the-Slipper, 
and  another  visit  from  Sliddim  confirmed  it.  The  plan 
of  our  enemy  was  perfectly  clear  to  our  minds.  He  would 
enter  the  house  by  means  of  the  key  an  hour  or  two  before 
Morse  and  the  servants  were  due,  conceal  himself  within 
it,  and  do  what  he  had  to  do  in  the  silent  hours  of  the 
night. 

It  was  quite  certain  that  he  believed  Morse  now  felt  him- 
self secure,  and  no  doubt  Midwinter  had  arranged  a  plan 
for  his  escape  from  Berkeley  Square,  when  his  vengeance 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  283 

was  complete,  as  ingenious  and  thoroughgoing  as  that  pre- 
pared for  his  literal  flight  from  the  City  in  the  Clouds. 

And  now,  on  this  very  evening,  I  was  to  throw  the  dice 
in  a  desperate  game  with  this  human  tiger. 

"It  is  for  to-night  certain,  sir,"  said  Sliddim  when  he 
arrived.  "I've  let  him  know  that  I  am  leaving  the  house 
for  a  couple  of  hours  this  evening,  between  eight  and  ten, 
to  see  my  old  mother  in  Camden  Town.  At  eleven  he  sup- 
poses that  the  servants  are  arriving,  and  at  midnight  Mr. 
and  Miss  Morse.  A  professional  friend  of  mine  is  watching 
our  gent  very  carefully.  He  is  at  present  staying  at  a 
small  private  hotel  in  Soho,  and  I  should  think  you  had 
better  come  to  the  house  about  seven,  on  foot,  and  directly 
you  ring  I'll  let  you  in.  I've  promised  to  meet  our  friend 
at  the  little  public  house  in  the  mews  at  eight,  for  just  one 
drink — ^he  wants  to  be  certain  that  I  am  really  out  of  the 
way — and  I  should  say  that  he  would  be  inside  Birming- 
ham House  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards." 

Rolston  came  in  before  the  fellow  went,  and  a  few  more 
details  were  discussed,  which  brought  the  time  up  to  about 
six  o'clock. 

And  then  I  had  a  most  unpleasant  and  difficult  few 
minutes.  My  faithful  little  lieutenant  defied  me  for  the 
first  time  since  I  had  known  him. 

"I  can't  tell  what  time  I  shall  be  back,"  I  said,  "but  I 
shall  want  you  to  be  at  the  end  of  the  telephone  wire — 
there  are  plenty  of  telephones  in  Birmingham  House." 

"But  I  am  going  too.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said  quickly. 


284  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

I  shook  my  head,  "No,"  I  said,  "I  must  go  through 
this  alone." 

"But  it's  impossible!  You  must  have  some  one  to  help 
you,  Sir  Thomas!  It  is  madness  to  meet  that  devil  alone 
in  an  empty  house.  It's  absolutely  unnecessary,  too.  I 
must  go  with  you.  I  owe  him  one  for  the  blow  he  gave  me 
when  he  escaped  from  the  Safety-room  at  the  City,  and, 
besides — " 

"Bill  Rolston,"  I  said,  "the  essence  of  fidelity  is  to  obey 
orders.  I  owe  more  to  you  than  I  can  possibly  say!  With- 
out you,  I  dread  to  think  what  might  have  happened  to 
Miss  Morse  and  her  father.  But  on  this  occasion  I  am 
adamant.  You  will  be  far  more  use  to  me  waiting  here, 
ready  to  carry  out  any  instructions  that  may  come  over 
the  wire." 

"Please,  Sir  Thomas,  if  I  ever  have  done  anything,  as 
you  say,  let  me  come  with  you  to-night." 

His  voice  broke  in  a  sob  of  entreaty,  but  I  steeled  myself 
and  refused  him. 

I  must  say  he  took  it  very  well  when  he  saw  that  there 
was  no  further  chance  of  moving  me. 

"Very  well  then,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "if  it  must  be  so, 
it  must  be.  I  will  be  back  here  at  seven,  and  wait  all  night 
if  necessary." 

With  that,  his  face  clouded  with  gloom,  he  went  away  and 
I  was  left  alone. 

Doubtless  you  will  have  gathered  my  motive?  It  would 
have  been  criminal  to  let  Rolston,  or  any  one  else,  have 
a  share  in  this  last  adventure.    To  put  it  in  plain  English, 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  285 

I  determined,  at  whatever  risk  to  myself,  to  kill   Mark 
Antony  Midwinter. 

There  was  nothing  else  for  it.  The  law  could  not  be 
invoked.  While  he  lived,  my  girl's  life  would  be  in  terri- 
ble danger.  The  man  had  to  be  destroyed,  as  one  would 
destroy  a  mad  dog,  and  it  was  my  duty,  and  mine  alone, 
to  destroy  him.  If  I  came  off  worst  in  the  encounter,  well, 
Morse  still  had  skilled  defenders.  The  risk,  I  knew,  was 
considerable,  but  it  seemed  that  I  held  the  winning  cards, 
for  within  two  hours  Midwinter  would  step  into  a  trap. 

When  I  had  killed  him  I  had  my  own  plans  as  to  the 
disposal  of  the  body.  It  was  arranged  that  a  considerable 
number  of  Chinese  servants  from  the  City  should  arrive  at 
eleven.  If  I  knew  those  bland,  yellow  ruffians,  it  would 
not  be  a  difficult  thing  to  dispose  of  Midwinter's  remains, 
either  on  the  spot  or  by  conveyal  to  Richmond.  Another 
alternative  was  that  I  should  shoot  him  in  self-defense, 
as  an  ordinary  burglar.  Certainly  the  law  would  come  in 
here,  but  it  would  be  justifiable  homicide  and  be  merely  a 
three  days'  sensation.  I  had  to  catch  my  hare  first — the 
method  of  cooking  it  could  be  left  till  afterwards. 

In  a  drawer  in  my  \vriting-table  were  letters  to  various 
people,  including  my  solicitor  and  my  two  friends,  Pat 
Moore  and  Arthur  Winstanley.  There  was  a  long  one,  also, 
to  Juanita.  Everything  was  arranged  and  in  order.  I  am 
not  aware  that  I  felt  any  fear  or  any  particular  emotion, 
save  one  of  deep,  abiding  purpose.  Nothing  would  now 
have  turned  me  from  what  I  proposed  to  do.  I  had  spent 
long  thought  over  it  and  I  was  perfectly  convinced  that  it 


286  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

was  an  act  of  justice,  irregular,  dangerous  to  myself,  but 
morally  defendable  by  every  canon  of  equity  and  right.  The 
man  was  a  murderer  over  and  over  again.  To-night  he 
would  receive  the  honor  of  a  private  execution.  That 
was  all. 

When  I  left  my  chambers,  with  an  automatic  pistol,  a 
case  of  sandwiches,  and  a  flask  of  whisky-and-water,  the 
rain  was  descending  in  a  torrent.  The  street  was  empty 
and  dismal,  and  Berkeley  Square  itself  a  desert.  I  don't 
think  I  saw  a  single  person,  except  one  police-constable 
in  oilskins  sheltering  under  an  archway,  till  I  arrived  at 
Birmingham  House.  The  well-known  fagade  of  the  man- 
sion was  blank  and  cheerless.  All  the  blinds  were  down; 
there  was  not  a  sign  of  occupation.  I  rang,  the  door  opened 
immediately,  and  I  slipped  in. 

"I  must  be  off.  Sir  Thomas,"  said  Sliddim.  "If  you  go 
through  the  door  on  the  far  side  of  the  inner  hall  beyond 
the  grand  staircase,  you  will  find  yourself  in  a  short  pas- 
sage with  a  baize  door  at  the  farther  end.  Push  this  open, 
and  you  will  be  in  a  small  lobby.  The  door  immediately 
to  your  left  is  that  of  the  butler's  pantry.  It  commands  the 
service  stairs  and  lift  to  the  kitchen  and  servants'  rooms. 
Standing  in  the  doorway  you  will  see  the  head  of  any  one 
coming  up  the  stairs,  and — "  he  gave  a  sickly  grin  and 
something  approaching  a  reptilian  wink.  Sliddim  was  an 
unpleasant  person,  and  I  never  liked  him  less  than  at  that 
moment. 

With  another  whisper  he  opened  the  door  a  few  inches 
and  writhed  out. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  287 

I  was  left  alone  in  Birmingham  House. 
It  was  the  queerest  possible  sensation,  and  as  I  crossed 
the  great  inner  hall,  with  its  tapestries  and  gleaming  statu- 
ary, lit  now  by  two  single  electric  bulbs,  I  don't  deny  that 
my  heart  was  beating  a  good  deal  faster  than  was  pleasant. 
There  is  always  something  ghostly  about  an  empty  house, 
more  especially  when  it  is  fully  furnished  and  ready  for 
occupation.  The  absence  of  all  life  is  uncanny,  and  one 
seems  to  feel  that  it  is  hidden,  not  absent,  and  that  at 
any  moment  a  door  may  open  and  some  enigmatic  stranger 
be  standing  there  with  an  unpleasant  welcome  in  his  eyes. 

Well,  I  slunk  through  all  the  glories  of  the  grand  hall, 
passed  down  the  passage,  and  came  out  into  the  servants' 
quarters.  The  little  lobby,  the  floor  of  which  was  covered 
with  cork  matting,  was  well  lit,  and  so  were  the  stairs.  I 
peered  over  the  rail,  but  could  not  see  to  the  bottom;  but, 
standing  in  the  door  of  the  room  called  the  butler's  pantry, 
I  saw  that  I  could  put  a  bullet  through  the  head  of  any  one 
appearing,  before  he  could  have  the  slightest  inkling  of  my 
presence,  before  he  could  slew  round,  even,  to  face  me. 

The  butler's  pantry  itself  was  a  fair-sized,  comfortable 
room,  with  a  carpet  on  the  floor  and  a  couple  of  worn, 
padded  armchairs  by  the  fireplace.  The  walls  were  hung 
with  photographs;  on  one  side  was  a  business-like  roll-top 
desk,  and  in  a  corner  a  large  safe  which  obviously  con- 
tained the  plate  in  daily  use  in  the  great  household.  I  knew 
that  the  bulk  of  the  valuables  were  stored  in  a  strong  room 
in  Chancery  Lane. 
Upon  the  table  Mr.  Sliddim  had  thoughtfully  placed  a 


288  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

heavy  cut-glass  decanter  half  full  of  whisky,  a  siphon,  and 
— glasses!  The  whisky  was  all  right,  but  did  he  expect  me 
to  hobnob  with  Antony  Midwinter,  to  speed  the  parting 
guest,  as  it  were,  with  a  stirrup-cup?  It  was  difficult  to 
suspect  him  of  such  grim  humor. 

I  looked  at  my  watch.  There  was  still  a  good  half-hour 
before  Midwinter  and  Sliddim  were  due  to  meet  in  the 
little  public  house  behind  the  Square.  I  saw  that  my  pistol 
was  handy,  and  sat  down  in  one  of  the  armchairs  by  the 
fireside.  A  pipe  of  the  incomparable  "John  Cotton"  would 
not  be  amiss,  I  thought,  wondering  if  I  should  ever  taste 
its  fragrance  again,  and  for  some  minutes  I  sat  and  smoked, 
placidly  enough.  Then,  I  suppose  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
or  so  must  have  elapsed,  I  began  to  fidget  in  my  chair. 

The  house  was  so  terribly  still!  Still,  but  not  quite  silent! 
Time,  that  was  ticking  away  so  rapidly,  had  a  score  of 
small  voices.  There  was  the  faint  noise  of  taxicabs  out 
in  the  Square,  the  drip  of  the  rain,  an  occasional  stealthy 
creak  from  the  furniture,  the  scurry  of  a  mouse  in  the 
wainscot;  the  more  remote  chambers  of  my  brain  began 
to  fill  with  riot,  and  once  my  nerves  jerked  like  a  hooked 
fish. 

And  even  now  I  do  not  think  it  was  fear.  Terror,  per- 
haps— there  is  a  subtle  distinction — but  not  craven  fear.  I 
think,  perhaps,  it  was  more  the  sense  of  something  coldly 
evil  that  might  even  now  be  approaching  through  the  fog 
and  rain,  a  lost  soul  inspired  with  cunning,  hatred,  and 
ferocity,  whom  I  must  meet  in  deadly  contact  within  a  short, 
but  unknown,  space  of  time.  .  .  . 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  289 

"This  won't  do  at  alll"  I  thought,  and  then  my  eye  fell 
on  Mr.  Sliddim's  hospitable  preparations.  I  got  up,  went 
round  to  the  other  side  of  the  table,  put  my  pistol  down 
upon  it,  and  mixed  a  stiff  peg. 

My  back  was  now  to  the  open  door,  and  I  was  just  lift- 
ing the  glass  to  my  lips,  eagerly  enough,  I  am  afraid,  when, 
very  softly,  something  descended  upon  each  of  my  shoul- 
ders. 

I  had  not  heard  a  sound  of  any  sort,  save  the  gurgle  of 
the  aerated  water  in  the  glass,  but  now  a  shriek  like  that  of 
a  frightened  woman  rang  out  into  the  room,  and  it  came 
from  me. 

I  was  gripped  horribly  by  the  back  of  the  throat,  whirled 
round  with  incredible  speed  and  force,  and  flung  heavily 
against  the  opposite  wall,  falling  sideways  into  an  armchair, 
gasping  for  breath  and  my  eyes  staring  out  of  my  head. 

Then  I  saw  him.  Mark  Antony  Midwinter  was  standing 
on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  smiling  at  me.  He  wore 
a  fashionable  morning  coat  and  a  silk  hat.  Under  his  left 
arm  was  a  gold-headed  walking-cane,  and  he  carried  his 
gloves  in  his  left  hand.  In  the  right  was  the  gleaming  blue- 
black  of  an  automatic  pistol,  pointed  at  my  heart. 

At  tJiat,  I  pulled  myself  together.  In  an  instant  I  knew 
that  I  had  failed.  The  brute  must  already  have  been  in 
the  house  when  Sliddim  admitted  me — ^he  had  outwitted 
all  of  us! 

"Ah!"  he  said,  "Sir  Thomas  Kirby!  You  have  crossed 
my  path  very  many  times  of  late.  Sir  Thomas,  and  I  have 
long  wished  to  make  your  acquaintance." 


290  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

His  voice  was  suave  and  cultured.  The  rather  full,  clean- 
shaved  face  had  elements  of  fineness — many  women  would 
have  called  him  a  handsome  man.  But  in  his  dull  and 
opaque  eyes  there  was  such  a  glare  of  cold  malignity,  such 
unutterable  cruelty  and  hate,  that  the  whole  room  grew 
like  an  ice-house  in  a  moment;  for  it  is  not  often  that 
any  man  sees  a  veritable  fiend  of  hell  looking  out  of  the 
eyes  of  another. 

"You  have  come  a  little  earlier  than  I  expected,"  I  man- 
aged to  say,  but  my  voice  rang  cracked  and  thin. 

"It  is  a  precaution  that  I  frequently  take.  Sir  Thomas, 
and  one  very  much  justified  in  the  present  instance.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  had  little  or  no  suspicion  that  I  was  walking 
into  a  trap — that  much  to  you!  But  a  life  of  shocks" — 
here  he  laughed  pleasantly,  but  the  little  steel  disk  pointed 
at  my  heart  never  wavered  a  hair's  breadth — "has  taught 
me  always  to  have  something  in  reserve.  I  see  that  I  shall 
not  have  the  pleasure  of  settling  accounts  with  Mr.  Gideon 
Morse  and  his  daughter  to-night.  Well,  that  can  wait. 
Meanwhile,  I  propose  within  a  few  seconds  to  remove  an- 
other obstacle  from  my  path — do  you  think  the  mandarin, 
Pu-Yi,  will  be  waiting  for  you  at  the  golden  gates,  Sir 
Thomas  Kirby?" 

So  this  was  the  end!    I  braced  myself  to  meet  it. 

"How  long?"  I  said. 

"I  will  count  a  hundred  slowly,"  he  answered. 

He  began,  and  I  stared  dimibly  at  the  pistol.  I  could  not 
think — I  could  not  commend  my  soul  to  my  Maker  even. 
The  function  of  thought  was  entirely  arrested. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  291 

"Thirty  .  .  .  thirty-one  .  .  .  thirty-two!" 

And  then  I  suddenly  burst  out  laughing. 

My  laughter,  I  know,  was  perfectly  natural,  full  of  genuine 
merriment.  Something  had  happened  which  seemed  to  me 
irresistibly  comic.  He  stopped  and  stared  at  me,  his  face 
changing  ever  so  little. 

"May  I  ask,"  he  said,  "what  tickled  your  sense  of 
humor?" 

What  had  tickled  my  sense  of  humor  was  this.  Stealing 
round  from  behind  him,  right  under  his  very  nose,  so  to 
speak,  but  quite  unseen,  was  an  arm  which  with  infinite 
care  and  slowness  was  removing  the  heavy  cut-glass  decanter 
from  the  table.  It  vanished.  It  reappeared  in  the  air 
behind  him  in  a  flashing  diamond  and  amber  circle. 

"Have  some  whisky,  Mr.  Midwinter,"  I  said,  as  it  de- 
scended with  a  crash  upon  the  side  of  his  head. 

Without  a  sound  he  sank  into  a  huddled  heap  out  of 
my  sight,  hidden  by  the  table. 

"You  little  devil!"  I  said,  staggering  to  my  feet,  for  Bill 
Rolston  stood  there,  white-faced  and  grinning.  "I  had 
to  come.  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "it  wasn't  any  use." 

"Have  you  killed  him.  Bill?" 

We  bent  down  and  made  an  examination.  Midwinter's 
face  was  dark  and  suffused  with  blood,  but  his  pulses  were 
all  right. 

"What  a  pity!"  said  Rolston.  "Help  me  to  get  him  on 
to  that  chair,  Sir  Thomas,  and  we'll  tie  him  up.  If  I  had 
killed  him,  it  would  have  been  so  much  simpler!" 

We  dragged  the  unconscious  man  to  the  very  armchair 


292  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

where  I  had  sat  under  the  menace  of  his  pistol,  and,  tear- 
ing the  tablecloth  into  strips,  tied  him  securely. 

"Fortunately,"  said  Bill,  "I  didn't  break  the  decanter. 
The  stopper  didn't  even  come  out!  You  look  pretty  sick, 
Sir  Thomas" — and  indeed  a  horrible  feeling  of  nausea  had 
come  over  me,  and  my  hands  were  shaking — "let's  each  have 
a  drink  and  then  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think." 

We  sat  down  on  each  side  of  the  table,  and  I  listened 
to  him  as  if  the  whole  thing  were  some  curious  dream. 
For  the  second  time  I  had  been  snatched  from  the  very 
brink  of  death,  and  though  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have 
been  getting  used  to  it  my  only  sensation  was  one  of  limp- 
ness and  collapse. 

"Can  you  do  it?"  my  little  friend  said,  pointing  to  the 
pistol  between  us. 

I  took  it  up,  weighed  it  in  my  hand,  half-pointed  it  at 
the  stiff,  red-faced  figure  in  the  chair,  and  laid  it  down 
again. 

"No,  I'm  damned  if  I  can!"  I  answered.  And  then — 
I  must  have  been  more  than  half-dazed — I  actually  said: 
"You  have  a  go,  Bill." 

He  looked  at  me  in  horror. 

"Murder  him  in  cold  blood!  I  should  never  know  a  mo- 
ment's peace,  Sir  Thomas!" 

"Well,  you  nearly  did  it  in  hot,  and  you've  just  been 
tempting  me — " 

"Let  us  bring  him  to,  if  we  can,"  he  said,  tactfully  chang- 
ing the  conversation  and  advancing  upon  our  friend  with 
the  siphon  of  soda-water. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  293 

There  was  a  grotesque  horror  about  the  whole  of  our 
adventure  that  night.  I  laughed  weakly  as  the  soda  hissed 
and  the  stream  of  aerated  water  splashed  over  Midwinter's 
face. 

Before  the  final  gurgle  he  awoke.  His  eyes  opened  with- 
out speculation.  Then  his  jaw  dropped.  For  a  moment 
his  face  was  as  vacant  as  a  doll's,  and  then  it  flared  up 
into  a  snarl  of  realization  and  hatred,  only,  in  another 
instant,  to  settle  down  into  a  dead  calm. 

"My  tiu-n  now,"  I  said. 

He  knew  the  game  was  up.  I  will  do  him  the  justice 
to  say  he  did  not  flinch.  » 

"Very  well,  count  a  hundred,"  was  his  answer,  and  his 
eye  fell  to  the  two  pistols  on  the  table — his  own  and  mine. 

I  shook  my  head.    "I  can't  do  it — I  wish  I  could  1" 

"You'll  find  it  quite  easy — I  speak  from  experience,"  he 
replied,  with  a  desperate,  evil  grin. 

"No,  I  have  talked  the  situation  over  with  my  friend. 
You  are  going  to  die,  that  is  very  certain,  but  not  by  my 
hand  now,  and  not,  Mr.  Midwinter,  by  the  hand  of  the 
English  law." 

He  was  very  quick.  Even  then  he  had  an  inkling  of  my 
meaning,  for  a  perceptible  shadow  fell  over  his  face  and  his 
eyes  narrowed  to  slits. 

"You  mean?" 

"We  are  going  to  telephone  to  the  City  in  the  Clouds. 
People  will  come  from  there  and  take  you  away — that 
will  be  easily  managed.  You  will  have  some  form  of  trial, 
and  then — execution." 


294  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

I  never  saw  a  change  from  red  to  white  so  sudden.  That 
big  face  suddenly  became  a  hideous,  sickly  white,  toneless 
and  opaque  like  the  belly  of  a  sole. 

"You  won't  deliver  me  to  the  Chinese?"  he  gasped.  "You 
can't  know  them  as  I  do.  They'd  take  a  week  killing  me! 
They  have  horrible  secrets — " 

His  voice  died  away  in  a  whimper,  and  if  ever  I  saw  a 
man  in  deadly  terror,  it  was  that  man  then. 

But  I  hardened  my  heart.  I  remembered  how  Morse 
and  Juanita  had  suffered  for  two  years  at  this  man's  hands. 
I  remembered  four  murders,  to  my  own  knowledge,  and  I 
shrugged  my  shoulders. 

"I  can't  help  that.  You  have  made  your  bed,  and  you 
must  lie  upon  it." 

"But  such  a  bed!"  he  murmured,  and  his  head  fell  for- 
ward on  his  chest. 

His  arms  were  bound  at  the  elbow,  but  he  could  move 
the  lower  portion,  and  he  now  brought  his  right  hand  to 
his  face. 

"I'll  telephone,"  said  Bill,  and  went  to  the  wall  by  the 
door  where  hung  the  instrument. 

I  sat  gloomily  watching  the  man  in  the  chair. 

What  was  he  doing?  His  jaw  was  moving  up  and  down. 
He  seemed  biting  at  his  wrist. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  slight,  tearing,  ripping  noise,  fol- 
lowed by  a  jerk  backwards  of  his  head  and  a  deep  intake 
of  the  breath. 

"What  is  he  doing?"  Rolston  said,  turning  round  with  the 
receiver  of  the  telephone  at  his  ear. 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  295 

Midwinter  held  out  his  arm.  I  saw  that  the  braid  round 
the  cuff  of  his  morning  coat  was  hanging  in  a  little  strip. 

"I  told  you  I  always  had  something  in  reserve,"  he  said, 
showing  all  his  teeth  as  he  grinned  at  me,  "Always  some- 
thing up  my  sleeve — literally,  in  this  case.  I  have  just 
swallowed  a  little  capsule  of  prussic  acid  which — " 

If  you  want  to  learn  of  how  a  man  dies  who  has  swallowed 
hydrocyanic  acid — the  correct  term,  I  believe — consult  a 
medical  dictionary.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  in 
actual  operation,  but,  thank  heavens,  it  is  speedy! 

The  sweat  was  pouring  down  my  face  when  it  was  over, 
but  Bill  Rolston  had  not  turned  a  hair. 

"Put  something  over  his  face,  Sir  Thomas,"  he  said,  "and 
I'll  get  through  to  Mr.  Morse." 


ENVOI 

I  TAKE  up  my  pen  this  evening,  exactly  ten  years  after  I 
wrote  the  last  paragraph  of  the  above  narrative,  to  read  of 
James  Antony  Midwinter,  dead  like  a  poisoned  rat  in  his 
chair,  with  a  sort  of  amazement  in  my  mind. 

The  whole  story  has  been  locked  in  a  safe  for  ten  long 
years,  and  that  blessed  and  happy  time  has  made  the  wild 
adventures,  the  terrible  moments  in  the  City  in  the  Clouds, 
indeed  seem  things  far  off  and  long  ago. 

This  afternoon  I  paid  what  will  probably  be  my  last  visit 
to  the  strange  kingdom  up  there. 

I  stood  with  my  little  son.  Viscount  Kirby,  and  my  small 
daughter,  Lady  Juanita,  and  my  wife,  the  Countess  of  Stax, 
at  a  very  solemn  ceremony. 

In  the  presence  of  a  Government  official,  a  representative 
of  His  Majesty — Colonel  Patrick  Moore,  of  the  Irish 
Guards,  A.D.C. — the  Cardinal  Archbishop,  and  a  few  pri- 
vate friends,  I  watched  the  elmwood  shell,  containing  Gideon 
Mendoza  Morse,  placed  in  its  marble  tomb. 

It  was  his  wish,  to  be  buried  there  in  his  fantastic  City, 
and  no  one  said  him  nay.  Well,  the  body  lies  in  its  place, 
two  hundred  weeping  Chinamen  are  returning  to  the  Flow- 
ery Land,  wealthy  beyond  their  utmost  hopes,  and  in  a  few 
months  the  City  in  the  Clouds  will  dissolve  and  disappear. 

The  rich  treasures  are  coming  to  Stax,  my  castle  in  Nor- 

296 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  297 

folk — such  as  are  not  bequeathed,  by  Morse's  munificence, 
to  the  museums  of  England  and  the  galleries  at  Brazil. 

Soon  the  immense  plateau  will  be  England's  aerial  ter- 
minus for  the  mail  ships  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 

While  Gideon  Morse  lived  it  was  impossible  to  publish 
the  truth.  It  is  to  appear  now,  at  last,  and  I  simply  want 
to  tie  a  few  loose  ends,  and  to  bring  down  the  curtain, 
leaving  nothing  unexplained. 

First  of  all  let  me  say  that  the  general  public  knew 
nothing  at  all  of  the  horrors  in  which  I  was  so  intimately 
concerned. 

Juanita  and  I  were  married  very  quietly  in  Westminster 
Cathedral  soon  after  Midwinter  went  to  his  account.  The 
enormous  fortune  that  she  brought  me,  supplementing  my 
own  very  considerable  means,  operated  in  the  natural  way. 
Other  journals  were  added  to  the  Evening  Special,  and  we 
started  a  great  campaign  for  the  sweetening  of  ordinary  life, 
and  not  unsuccessfully,  as  every  one  knows. 

They  made  me  a  baron,  and  four  years  afterwards,  Earl 
of  Stax.  As  for  my  father-in-law,  he  refused  to  budge  from 
the  City  in  the  Clouds. 

I  don't  mean  that  he  didn't  make  appearances  in  so- 
ciety, but  he  loved  to  get  back  to  his  fantastic  haven,  from 
whence,  like  a  magician,  he  showered  benefits  upon  Lon- 
don. 

Arthur  Winstanley,  as  everybody  knows,  is  Under- 
Secretary  for  India  and  the  most  rising  politician  of  our 
day. 

It  is  said  that  William  Rolston,  editor  of  the  Evening 


298  THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

Special,  is  our  most  brilliant  journalist,  though  the  older 
school  condemn  him  for  an  excess  of  imagination.  I  saw  the 
other  day,  in  the  old-fashioned  Thunderer,  a  slashing  attack 
upon  a  series  of  articles  which  had  recently  appeared  upon 
China,  and  which  the  critic  of  the  Thunderer  conclusively 
proved  to  be  written  from  an  abysmal  depth  of  ignorance. 
I  don't  often  go  to  the  office  now,  though  I  am  still  pro- 
prietor of  the  paper,  but  when  I  do,  and  sit  in  the  editorial 
room,  I  miss  Julia  Dewsbury,  best  of  all  private  secretaries 
since  the  beginning  of  the  world. 

Bill,  however,  assures  me  that  she  is  all  right,  entirely 
taken  up  with  the  children,  and  not  in  the  least  inclined 
to  bully  him  in  spite  of  her  eight  years  advantage  in  age. 

"To  that  woman,"  says  Bill  reverentially,  "I  owe  every- 
thing." 
Let  me  wind  up  properly. 

Crouching  behind  a  high  wall  on  Richmond  Hill  is  a 
modest  hostelry  still  known  as  the  "Golden  Swan."  It  is 
still  my  property,  and  pays  me  a  satisfactory  dividend.  It 
is  run  by  a  co-partnership,  which  I  should  say  is  unique. 

The  Honest  Fool  and  my  ex- valet,  Mr.  Preston,  perform 
this  feat  together,  but,  now  that  Morse  is  dead  and  the 
Chinese  have  all  departed,  I  fear  they  will  lose  a  good  deal 
of  custom.  This  I  gathered  from  Mr.  Mogridge,  that  pillar 
of  the  saloon  bar,  who  happened  to  meet  me  by  chance  in 
Fleet  Street  not  long  ago. 

"  'Alio!  Why,  it's  Mr.  Thomas,  late  landlord  of  the 
'Golden  Swan'!"  said  Mr.  Mogridge.  "  'Aven't  seen  you  for 
years.    What  are  you  doing  now?" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  CLOUDS  299 

"Oh,  I'm  doing  very  well,  thank  you,  Mr.  Mogridge.  And 
how  is  the  old  'Swan'?" 

"Same  as  ever  and  no  dropping  off  in  the  quality  of  the 
drinks.  Still,  I  fear  it's  going  down.  I'm  afraid  it  will 
never  be  quite  the  same  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Ting-A- 
ling-A-ling,"  and  here  Mr.  Mogridge  placed  his  hands  upon 
his  hips  and  roared  with  laughter  at  that  ancient  joke. 


THE  END 


(apwells 

BOOKS.    KOOAKS 
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»  .  1^1  >Lir>    r  Al  I  F 


